THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


P  A  U  L  I  N  E 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

BY 

HANFORD  LENNOX    GORDON 


NEW  YORK 
G.   P.    PUTNAM' S  SONS 

182  Fifth  A  venue 
1878 


COPYRIGHT  EY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  1878. 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF 
MY      DEVOTED     WIFE, 

DEAD    AND    GONE 

YET     ALWAYS    WITH     ME, 

I   DEDICATE 

PAULINE, 

THE     FLOWER    OF    MY     HEART, 

NURSED    INTO    BLOOM    BY    HER    LOVING    CARE 

AND    OFTEN    WATERED    WITH    HER    TEARS. 

H.    L.    G. 


764004 


CO  NTENTS 


PAULINE,  TART    I 

"              PART  II          .           .                       .           .  '.63 

THE   PIONEER 122 

MAULEY 132 

MY  HEART'S  ON  THE  RHINE       .        .        .  .135 

OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS 137 

ISABEL           .           .           .                       .           .           .  .139 


PAULINE. 


PART   I. 


INTRODUCTION. 

FAIR  morning  sat  upon  the  mountain-top, 
And  o'er  the  silent  city  softly  stole 
The  sheen  and  shimmer  of  her  golden  robes. 
Night  skulking  crept  into  the  mountain-chasm. 
The  silent  ships  slept  in  the  silent  bay  ; 
One  broad  blue  bent  of  ether  domed  the  heavens, 
One  broad  blue  distance  lay  the  shadowy  land, 
One  broad  blue  vast  of  silence  slept  the  sea. 
Now  from  the  dewy  groves  the  joyful  birds 
In  carol-concert  sang  their  matin  songs 
Softly  and  sweetly — full  of  prayer  and  praise. 
Then  silver-chiming,  solemn-voiced  bells 
Rung  out  their  music  on  the  morning  air, 


8  PA  ULINE. 

And  Lisbon  gathered  to  the  festival 

In  chapel  and  cathedral.     Choral  hymns 

And  psalms  of  sea-toned  organs  mingling  rose 

With  sweetest  incense  floating  up  to  Heaven, 

Bearing  the  praises  of  the  multitudes, 

And  all  was  holy  peace  and  holy  happiness. 

A  rumbling  of  deep  thunders  in  the  deep  ; 
The  vast  sea  shuddered  and  the  mountains  groaned  ; 
Then  heaved  the  solid  earth, — the  nether  rocks 
Burst — and  the  sea — the  earth — the  echoing  heavens 
Thundered  infernal  ruin.     On  their  knees 
The  trembling  multitudes  received  the  shock, 
And  dumb  with  sudden  terror  bowed  their  heads 
To  toppling  spire  and  plunging  wall  and  dome. 

So  shook  the  mighty  North  the  sudden  roar 
Of  Treason  thundering  on  the  April  air, — 
An  earthquake  shock  that  jarred  the  granite  hills 
And  westward  rolled  against  th'  eternal  walls 
Rock-built  by  Titans, — for  a  moment  shook : 
Uprose  a  giant  and  with  iron  hands 


PA  ULINE.  9 

Caught  his  huge  hammer,  claspt  his  belt  of  steel, 
And  o'er  the  Midgard-monster  mighty  Thor 
Loomed  for  the  combat. 

Peace,— O  blessed  Peace  ! 

The  war-worn  veterans  hailed  thee  with  a  shout 
Of  Alleluias  ; — homeward  wound  the  trains, 
And   homeward    marched    the   bayonet-bristling 

columns 

To  ' Hail  Columbia*  from  a  thousand  horns  ; 
Marched  to  the  jubilee  of  chiming  bells, 
Marched  to  the  joyful  peals  of  cannon,  marched, 
With  blazing  banners  and  victorious  songs, 
Into  the  outstretched  arms  of  love  and  home. 

But  there  be  columns — columns  of  the  dead 

That  slumber  on  an  hundred  battle-fields — 

No  bugle-blast  shall  waken  till  the  trump 

Of  the  Archangel.     O  the  loved  and  lost ! 

For  them  no  jubilee  of  chiming  bells  ; 

For  them  no  cannon-peal  of  victory ; 

For  them  no  outstretched  arms  of  love  and  home. 


10  PA  ULINE. 

God's  peace  be  with  them.     Heroes  who  went  down 
Wearing  their  stars,  live  in  the  nation's  songs 
And  stories, — there  be  greater  heroes  still, 
That  moulder  in  unnumbered  nameless  graves, 
Erst  bleached  unburied  on  the  fields  of  fame 
Won  by  their  valor.     Who  will  sing  of  these — 
Sing  of  the  patriot-deeds  on  flood  and  field 
Of  these — the  truer  heroes — all  unsung? 
O  where  the  modest  muse  in  Quaker  gray 
Who  blew  the  pibroch  ere  the  battb  lowered, 
Then  pitched  her  tent  upon  the  balmy  beach  ? 
"  Snow-bound,"  I  ween,  among  her  native  hills. 
And  where  the  master  hand  that  swept  the  lyre 
Till  wrinkled  critics  cried  "  Excelsior"? 
Gathering  the  "  Aftermath  "  in  frosted  fields. 
Then,  timid  Muse,  no  longer  shake  thy  wings  . 
For  airy  realms  and  fold  again  in  fear; 
A  broken  flight  is  better  than  no  flight, 
A  timid  voice  is  better  than  no  voice. 
Be  thine  the  task  as  best  you  may,  to  sing 
The  deeds  of  one  who  sleeps  at  Gettysburg 
Among  the  thousands  in  a  common  grave. 
The  story  of  his  life  I  bid  you  tell 


PA  ULINE.  1 1 

As  it  was  told  one  windy  winter  night 

To  veterans  gathered  around  the  festal  board, 

Fighting  old  battles  over  where  the  field 

Ran  red  with  wine,  and  all  the  battle-blare 

Was  merry  laughter  and  the  merry  songs, — 

Told  when  the  songs  were  sung  by  him  who  heard 

The  pith  of  it  from  the  dying  soldier's  lips — 

His  Captain, — tell  it  as  the  Captain  told. 


THE    CAPTAINS    STORY. 

Come,  comrades,  let  us  fight  one  battle  more ; 
Let  the  cock  crow, — we'll  guard  the  camp  to-night. 
And — since  the  singers  and  the  merry  ones 
Are  Jwrs  du  combat — fill  the  cups  again 
With  ruddy  wine,  r.nd  listen  to  a  tale — 
Romantic, — but  the  warp  thereof  is  truth. 
When  the  old  Flag  o'er  Sumter's"  sea-girt  walls 
From  its  proud  perch  a  fluttering  ruin  fell, 
I  swore  an  oath  as  big  as  Bunker  Hill ; 
For  I  was  younger  then,  nor  battle-scarred, 
And  full  of  patriot-faith  and  martial  fire. 


12  PAULINE. 

I  raised  a  company  of  riflemen, 

Marched  to  the  front,  and  proud  of   my  command, 

Nor  seeking  higher,  led  them  till  the  day 

Of  triumph  and  the  nation's  jubilee. 

Among  the  first  that  answered  to  my  call, 

Came  the  hero  of  the  story  you  shall  hear. 

'Tis  better  I  describe  him.     He  was  young — 

Near  two  and  twenty, — neither  short  nor  tall, — 

A  slender  student,  and  his  tapering  hands 

Had  better  graced  a  maiden  than  a  man : 

Sad,  thoughtful  face, — a  wealth  of  raven  hair 

Brushed  back  in  waves  from  forehead  prominent; 

A  classic  nose — half  Roman  and  half  Greek ; 

Dark,  lustrous  eyes  beneath  a  jutting  brow, 

Wearing  a  shade  of  sorrow,  yet  so  keen, 

And  in  the  storm  of  battle  flashing  fire. 

'  Well,  boy,'  I  said,  '  I  doubt  if  you  will  do ; 
I  need  stout  men  for  picket-line  and  march — 
Men  that  have  bone  and  muscle — men  inured 
To  toil  and  hardships, — men,  in  short,  my  boy, 
To  march  and  fight,  and  march  and  fight  again.' 


PAULINE.  13 


A  queer  expression  lit  his  earnest  face — 
Half  frown — half  smile. 


"  Well,  try  me."     That  was  all 
He  answered,  and  I  put  him  on  the  roll — 
Paul  Prior — Private — and  he  donned  the  blue. 
Paul  proved  himself  the  best  in  my  command ; 
I  found  him  first  at  reveille,  and  first 
In  all  the  varied  duties  of  the  day. 
His  rough-hewn  comrades,  bred  to  bpist'rous  ways, 
Jeered  at  the  slender  youth  with  maiden  hands, 
Nick-named  him  '  Nel/  and  for  a  month  or  more 
Kept  up  a  fusillade  of  jokes  and  jeers. 
Their  jokes  and  jeers  he  heard  but  heeded  not, 
Or  heeding  did  a  kindly  act  for  him 
•That  jeered  him  loudest,  so  the  hardy  men 
Came  to  look  up  to  Paul  as  one  above 
The  level  of  their  rough  and  boist'rous  ways. 
He  never  joined  the  jolly  soldier-sports, 
But  ever  was  the  first  at  bugle-call, 
Mastered  the  drill  and  often  drilled  the  men. 
Fatigued  with  duty,  weary  with  the  marqh 


14  PAULINE. 

Under  the  blaze  of  the  midsummer  sun, 
He  murmured  not, — alike  in  sun  or  rain 
His  utmost  duty  eager  to  perform, 
And  ever  ready, — always  just  the  same 
Patient  and  earnest — sad  and  silent  Paul. 

The  day  of  battle  came — that  Sabbath  day, 
Midsummer.     Hot  and  blistering  as  the  flames 
Of  prairie-fires  wind-driven,  the  burning  sun 
Blazed  down  upon  us,  and  the  blinding  dust 
Wheeled  in  dense  clouds  and  covered  all  our  ranks, 
As  we  marched  on  to  battle.     Then  the  roar 
Of  batteries  broke  upon  us.     Glad  indeed, 
That  music  to  my  soldiers,  and  they  cheered 
And  cheered  again,  and  boasted — all  but  Paul — 
And  shouted  '  On  to  Richmond  I ' — he  alone 
Was  silent, — but  his  eyes  were  full  of  fire. 

Then  came  the  order — '  Forward,  double-quick  ! ' 
And  we  rushed  into  battle, — formed  our  Line 
Facing  the  toe — the  ambushed,  deadly  foe, 
Hid  in  the  thicket,  with  the  Union  flag— 


PAULINE.  15 

A  cheat — hung  out  before  it — luring  us 
Into  a  blazing  hell.     The  battle  broke 
With  wildest  fury  on  us, — crashed  and  pealed 
The  rolling  thunder  of  continuous  fire. 
We  broke  and  rallied, — charged  and  broke  again, 
And  rallied  still, — broke  counter  charge  and  charged 
Loud-yelling,  furious,  on  the  hidden  foe ; — 
Met  thrice  our  numbers  and  came  flying  back 
Disordered  and  disheartened.     Yet  again 
I  strove  to  rally  my  discouraged  men, 
But  hell  was  fairly  howling ; — only  Paul — 
Eager  but  bleeding  from  a  bullet-wound 
In  the  left  arm— came  bounding  to  my  side. 
But  at  that  moment  I  was  struck  and  fell- 
Fell  prostrate  ;  then  a  sickly  sense  of  death 
Came  o'er  me,  and  I  saw  and  heard  no  more 
Of  battle  on  that  Sabbath. 


I  awoke 

Confined  and  jolted  in  an  ambulance 
Piled  with  the  wounded, — driven  recklessly 
By  one  who  chiefly  cared  to  save  himself. 


1 6  PAULINE. 

I  raised  myself  as  best  I  could ;  my  wound 
Was  not  as  dangerous  as  it  might  have  been — 
A  scalp  wound  o'er  the  temple ;  there  you  see, — 
He  put  his  finger  on  the  ugly  scar, — 
Half  an  inch  deeper,  and  some  soldier-friend, 
Among  the  veterans  gathered  here  to-night, 
Had  told  a  briefer  story  o'er  the  wine. 
In  front  and  rear  I  saw  the  fearful  rout, — 
A  broken  army  swarming  panic-struck  ; — 
The  proud  brigades  of  undulating  steel 
That  marched  at  sunrise  under  blazoned  flags, 
Singing  the  victory  ere  the  cannon  roared, 
And  eager  for  the  honors  of  the  day, — 
Like  bison  Indian-chased  on  windy  plains, 
Now  broken  and  commingled  fled  the  field. 
Words  of  command  were  only  wasted  breath  ; 
Colonels  and  brigadiers,  on  foot  and  soiled, 
Were  pushed  and  jostled  by  the  hurrying  hordes. 
Anon  the  cry  of  '  Cavalry  !  '  arose, 
And  army  teams  came  dashing  down  the  road 
And  plunged  into  the  panic.     All  the  way 
Was  strown  with  broken  wagons,  battery-guns, 
Tents,  muskets,  knapsacks  and  exhausted  men. 


PAULINE.  17 

My  men  were  mingled  with  the  lawless  crowd, 

And  in  the  swarm  behind  us,  there  was  Paul — 

Silent  and  soldier-like  with  knapsack  on 

And  rifle  on  his  shoulder  guarding  me, 

And  marching  on  behind  the  ambulance. 

So  all  that  dark  and  gloomy  night  we  marched, 

Each  man  a  captain — captain  o'er  himself— 

Nor  cared  for  orders  on  that  wild  retreat 

To  safety  from  disaster.     All  that  night, 

Silent  and  soldier-like  my  wounded  Paul 

Marched  close  behind  and  kept  his  faithful  watch. 

For  ever  and  anon  the  jaded  men, 

Clamorous  and  threat'ning,  sought  to  clamber  in, 

And  ride  upon  our  load  of  misery, 

Whom  Paul  drove  off  at  point  of  bayonet, 

Wielding  his  musket  with  his  good  right  arm. 

But  when  the  night  was  waning  to  the  morn 

I  saw  that  he  was  weary  and  I  made 

A  place  for  Paul  and  begged  him  to  get  in. 

"  No,  Captain,  no,"  he  answered, — "  I  will  walk, — 

I'm  making  bone  and  muscle, — learning  now 

To  march  and  fight  and  march  and  fight  again." 

That  silenced  me,  and  we  went  rumbling  on, 

Till  morning  found  us  safe  at  Arlington. 


1 8  PAULINE. 

A  month  off  duty  and  a  faithful  nurse 
Worked  wonders  and  my  head  was  well  again, — 
But — to  be  candid — cracked  a  little  yet. 
My  nurse  was  Paul.     Albeit  his  left  arm, 
Flesh-wounded,  pained  him  sorely  for  a  time, 
With  filial  care  he  dressed  my  battered  head, 
And  wrote  for  me  to  anxious  friends  at  home ; 
But  never  wrote  a  letter  for  himself. 
Thinking  of  this  one  day,  I  spoke  of  it ; — 
A  cloud  came  o'er  his  face. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said, 

"  Are  here  among  my  comrades  in  the  camp." 
That  was  a  mystery  and  I  questioned  him, 
But  got  no  answers — or  mysterious  ones. 

Again  we  joined  our  regiment  and  marched 
Far  o'er  the  hills  and  dales  of  Maryland. 
On  picket-duty  at  the  frequent  fords 
For  weary,  toilsome  months  were  we  employed 
Along  the  broad  Potomac,  while  our  foes, 
•Eagerly  watching  for  their  human  game, 


PAULINE.  19 

Lurked  like  Apaches  on  the  wooded  shores. 

Bands  of  enemy's  cavalry  by  night 

Along  the  line  of  river  prowled  and  sought 

To  dash  across  and  raid  in  Maryland. 

Two  regiments  guarded  miles  of  river-bank, 

And  drilled  alternately  ; — and  one  was  ours. 

Off  picket-duty,  alike  in  fair  or  foul, 

With  knapsacks  on  and  bearing  forty  rounds, 

From  morn  till  night  we  drilled, — battalion-drill, — 

Often  at  double-quick  for  weary  hours, — 

Bearing  our  burdens  in  the  blazing  sun, 

Till  strong  men  staggered  from  the  ranks  and  fell. 

Aye,  many  a  hardy  man  in  those  hard  days 

Was  drilled  and  disciplined  into  his  grave.     Arose 

Murmurs  of  discontent,  and  loud  complaints 

Fell  on  dull  ears  till  patience  was  worn  out, 

And  mutiny  was  hinted.     As  for  Paul 

I  never  heard  a  murmur  from  his  lips  ; 

Nor  did  he  ask  a  reason  for  the  things 

Unreasonable  and  hard  required  of  him, 

But  straightway  did  his  duty,  just  as  if 

The  nation's  fate  hung  on  it.     I  pitied  Paul ; 

Slender  in  form  and  delicate,  he  bore 


20  PA  ULINE. 

The  toils  and  duties  of  the  hardiest. 
Ill  from  exposure,  or  fatigued  and  worn, 
On  picket  hungered,  shivering  in  the  rain, 
Or  sweltering  in  full  dress,  with  knapsack  on, 
Beneath  the  blaze  of  the  mid-summer  sun, 
He  held  his  spirit, — always  still  the  same 
Patient  and  earnest,  sad  and  silent  Paul. 

We  posted  pickets  two  by  two.     At  night, 

By  turns  the  comrades  slept  and  took  the  watch. 

Once  in  September,  in  a  dismal  storm, 

Three  days  and  nights  with  neither  tent  nor  fire, 

Paul  and  a  comrade  held  a  picket-post. 

The  equinox  raged  madly.     Chilling  winds 

In  angry  gusts  roared  from  the  northern  hills, 

Dashing  the  dismal  rain-clouds  into  showers 

That  fell  in  torrents  over  all  the  land. 

In  camp  the  soldiers  crouched  in  dripping  tents, 

Or  shivered  o'er  the  camp  fires.     I  was  ill 

And  gladly  sought  the  shelter  of  a  hut. 

Our  rules  were  strict  and  often  hard  to  bear — 

Nor  tents  nor  fire  upon  the  picket-posts, — 


PA  ULINE.  2 1 

Cold  rations  and  a  canopy  of  storms. 

I  pitied  Paul  and  would  have  called  him  in, 

But  that  I  had  no  man  to  take  his  place ; 

Nor  did  I  know  he  took  upon  himself 

A  double  task.     His  comrade  on  the  post 

Was  ill,  and  so  he  made  a  shelter  for  him 

With  his  own  blankets  and  a  bed  within ; 

And  took  the  watch  of  both  upon  himself. 

And  on  the  third  night  near  the  dawn  of  day, 

In  rubber  cloak  stole  in  upon  the  post 

A  pompous  major,  on  the  nightly  round, 

Unchallenged.    All  fatigued  and  drenched  with  rain, 

There  on  his  post — his  rifle  in  his  hand — 

Paul  leaned  against  a  sheltering  elm  and  slept. 

The  haughty  major  stormed  and  threatened  death  ; 

Then  pitiless  pricked  the  comrade  with  his  sword, 

And  from  his  shelter  drove  him  to  the  watch, 

Shivering  with  fever.     There  Paul  interposed 

And  said  : 

"  I  ask  no  mercy  at  your  hands ; 
I  shall  not  whimper,  but  my  comrade  here 


22  PAULINE. 

Is  ill  of  fever ;  I  have  stood  his  watch ; 
I  pray  you  send  him  to  the  hospital." 

The  pompous  brute — vaingloriously  great 
In  blue  and  buttons,  haughtily  silenced  Paul, 
Hand-bound  and  sent  him  guarded  to  the  camp, 
And  the  poor  comrade  shivering  stood  the  watch 
Till  dawn  of  day  and  I  was  made  aware. 
Among  the  true  were  some  vainglorious  fools 
Called  by  the  tap  of  drum  from  native  mire 
To  lord  and  strut  in  shoulder-straps  and  buttons. 
Scrubs,  born  to  brush  the  boots  of  gentlemen, 
By  freak  of  fickle  fortune  found  themselves 
Masters  of  better  men,  and  lorded  it 
As  only  base  and  brutish  natures  can. 


I  interceded  in  my  Paul's  behalf, 
Else  he  had  suffered  graver  punishment, 
But  as  himself  for  mercy  would  not  beg, — 
"  A  stubborn  boy,"  our  bluff  old  colonel  said- 
To  extra  duty  for  a  month  he  went 


PA  ULINE.  23 

At  camp  and  on  the  picket.     When  the  rain 

Poured  down  most  pitiless,  Paul  was  sure  to  be 

On  picket-duty  without  tent  or  fire ; 

When  the  broad  sun  at  mid-day  blazed  and  burned, 

Like  the  red  flame  on  Mauna  Loa's  top, 

Withering  the  grass  and  parching  earth  and  air, 

I  often  saw  him  knapsacked  and  full-dressed, 

Drilling  the  raw  recruits  at  double-quick; 

And  yet  he  wore  a  patient  countenance, 

And  went  about  his  duty  earnestly, 

As  if  it  were  a  pleasure  to  obey. 

The  month  wore  off,  then  mad  disaster  gorged 

Her  maw  with  blood  of  heroes  at  Ball's  Bluff. 

'Twas  there  the  brave  and  noble  Baker  fell — 

A  sacrifice — perhaps  to  treachery. 

Quenched  was  the  flame  that  fired  a  thousand  hearts  ; 

Hushed  was  the  voice  that  shook  the  senate-walls, 

And  rang  defiance  to  the  traitors  there. 

Broad  o'er  the  rugged  mountains  to  the  north 

Fell  the  incessant  rain  till,  like  a  sea, 

Him  and  the  deadly  ambush  of  the  foe 


2  4  PAULINE. 

The  mighty  river  rolled  and  roared  between. 
Brave  Baker  saw  the  peril,  but  not  his 
The  soul  to  shrink  or  falter,  though  he  saw 
His  death-warrant  in  his  orders.     Forth  he  led 
His  proud  brigade  across  the  roaring  chasm, 
Firmly  and  bravely  into  the  chasm  of  death. 
From  morn  till  mid-day  in  a  single  boat 
Unfit,  by  companies,  the  fearless  band 
Passed  o'er  the  swollen  river ;  then  advanced 
Upon  the  ambushed  foe.     We  heard  the  roll 
Of  volleys  in  the  forest,  and  uprose, 
From  out  the  wood,  a  cloud  of  battle-smoke. 
Then  came  the  yell  of  foemen  charging  down 
Rank  upon  rank  and  furious.     Hand  to  hand, 
The  little  band  of  heroes,  flanked  and  pressed, 
Fought  thrice  their  numbers;  fearless  Baker  led 
In  prodigies  of  valor ;  front  and  flank 
Loud  swarmed  the  furious  foemen ;  in  the  rear 
The  rapid,  raging  river  rolled  and  roared. 
Along  the  Maryland  shore  a  mile  below, 
Eager  to  cross  and  re-inforce  our  friends, 
Ten  thousand  soldiers  lay  upon  their  arms ; 
And  we  had  boats  to  spare.     In  all  our  ranks 


PA  ULINE.  25 

There  was  not  one  who  did  not  comprehend 
The  peril  and  the  instant  need  of  aid. 
Charing  we  waited  orders.     We  could  see 
That  Baker's  men  were  fighting  in  retreat ; 
For  ever  nearer  o'er  the  forest  rose 
The  smoke  of  battle.     Orders  came  at  last, 
And  up  along  the  bank  our  regiment  ran, 
Eager  to  aid  our  comrades,  but  too  late. 
Baker  had  fallen  in  the  battle  front ; 
He  fought  like  Spartan  and  like  Spartan  fell. 
Their  leader  lost,  confusion  followed  fast ; 
Wild  panic  and  red  slaughter  ruled  the  field. 
Powerless  to  save  we  saw  the  farther  shore 
Covered  with  wounded  and  wild  fugitives — 
Our  own  defeated  and  defenseless  friends. 
Shattered  and  piled  with  wounded  men  the  boat 
Pushed  off  to  brave  the  river,  while  the  foe 
Pressed  on  the  charge  with  fury,  and  refused 
Mercy  to  the  vanquished.     Officers  and  men, 
Cheating  the  frenzied  foemen  of  their  spoils, 
Their  flags  and  arms  into  the  gurgling  depths 
Despairing  hurled,  and  following  plunged  amain. 
As  numerous  as  the  wild  aquatic  flocks 


26  PAULINE, 

That  float  in  autumn  on  Lake  Winnipeg, 

The  heads  of  swimmers  moved  upon  the  flood. 

And  still  upon  the  shore  a  Spartan  few — 

Shoulder  to  shoulder — back  to  back  as  one — 

Amid  the  din  and  clang  of  clashing  steel, 

Surrounded  held  the  swarming  foes  at  bay. 

As  in  the  pre-historic  centuries — 

Unnumbered  ages  ere  the  pyramids — 

Whereof  we  read  on  pre-diluvian  bones 

And  fretted  flints  in  excavated  caves, 

When  savage  men  abode  in  rocky  dens, 

And  wrought  their  weapons  from  the  fiery  flint, 

And  clothed  their  tawny  thighs  in  lion-skins, — 

Before  the  mouth  of  some  well-guarded  cave, 

Where  smoked  the  savory  flesh  of  mammoth,  came 

The  great  cave-bear  unbidden  to  the  feast. 

Around  the  monster  swarm  the  brawny  men, 

Wielding  with  sinewy  arms  and  savage  cries 

Their  flinty  spears  and  tomahawks  of  stone : 

Erect  old  bruin  growls  upon  his  foes, 

And  swings  with  mighty  power  his  ponderous  paws, — 

Woe  unto  him  who  feels  the  crushing  blow, — 

Till  bleeding  from  an  hundred  wounds  and  blind, 


PAULINE.  27 

With  sudden  plunge  he  falls  at  last,  and  dies 
Amid  the  shouts  of  his  wild  enemies. 
So  fought  the  Spartan  few  till,  one  by  one, 
They  fell  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  foes. 
The  river  boiled  beneath  the  storm  of  lead  ; 
Weighed  down  with  heavy  clothing  many  sunk, 
But  more  went  down  with  bullets  in  their  heads. 
O  !  it  was  pitiful.     The  out-stretched  hands 
Of  men  that  erst  had  faced  the  battle-storm 
Unshaken,  grasping  now  in  wild  despair, 
Wrung  tears  of  pity  from  us.     Vain  our  fire, — • 
The  range  too  long, — it  fell  upon  our  friends ; 
At  which  the  foemen  yelled  their  mad  delight. 
A  shower  of  bullets  poured  upon  the  boat, 
Mangling  the  mangled  on  her,  till  at  last, 
Shattered  and  over-laden,  suddenly 
She  made  a  lurch  to  leeward  and  went  down. 


A  shallow  boat  lay  moored  upon  the  shore ; 
Our  gallant  Colonel  called  for  volunteers 
In  mercy's  name  to  man  it  and  push  out. 
But  all  could  see  the  peril.     Stout  the  heart 


28  PAULINE. 

Would  dare  to  face  the  raging  flood  and  fire, 

And  to  his  call  responded  not  a  man — 

Save  Paul  and  one  who  perished  at  the  helm. 

They  went  as  if  at  bugle-call  to  drill ; 

Their  comrades  said,  "  They  never  will  return." 

Stoutly  and  steadily  Paul  rowed  the  boat 

Athwart  the  rolling  river's  sullen  tide, 

And  reached  the  wounded  struggling  in  the  flood. 

Bravely  they  worked  away  and  lifted  in 

The  helpless  till  the  boat  would  hold  no  more ; 

Others  they  helped  to  holds  upon  the  rails, 

Then  pulled  away  the  over-laden  craft. 

We  cheered  them  from  the  shore.    The  maddened  foe 

With  furious  volleys  answered, — hitting  oft 

The  little  craft  of  mercy  ; — hands  anon 

Relaxed  their  holds  and  sunk  into  the  deep ; 

And  in  that  storm  Paul's  gallant  comrade  fell. 

Trimming  his  craft  with  caution  Paul  could  make 

But  little  headway  with  a  single  oar, — 

The  other  had  been  wildly  clutched  away. 

Unscathed  he  stood  ;  then  fell  a  sudden  sho\vcr 

That  broke  his  bended  oar-stem  near  the  blade. 

Down  to  the  brink  we  crept  and  stretched  our  hands, 

And  cried  to  him  to  swim  and  save  himself. 


PAULINE.  29 

He  stood  a  moment  as  if  all  were  lost, 

Then  caught  the  rope,  and  stretching  forth  his  hand, 

Waved  to  the  foe  and  leaped  into  the  flood. 

Slowly  he  towed  the  clumsy  craft  and  swam, 

Down-drifting  with  the  rapid,  rolling  stream. 

Cheering  him  on  adown  the  shore  we  ran  ; 

The  current  lent  its  aid  and  bore  him  in 

Toward  us,  and  beyond  the  range  at  last 

Of  foemen's  fire  he  safely  came  to  land, 

Mooring  his  boat  amid  a  storm  of  cheers. 


Confined  in  hospital  three  days  he  lay 
Fatigued  and  feverous,  but  tender  hands 
Nursed  and  restored  him.     Our  old  Colonel  came 
And  thanked  him — patting  Paul  paternally — 
And  praised  his  prowess.     "  Noble  boy,"  he  said, 
"  Had  I  a  regiment  of  such  men,  by  Jove! 
I'd  cut  my  way  to  Richmond  in  a  week." 
Paul  made  reply,  and  in  his  smile  and  tone 
Mingled  a  touch  of  sarcasm : 


30  PA  ULINE. 

"  Thank  you,  sir  ; 

But  let  me  add — I  fear  the  wary  foe 
Would  nab  your  reg'ment  napping  on  the  field. 
You  have  forgotten,  Colonel — not  so  fast, — 
I  am  the  man  that  slept  upon  his  post." 
Our  bluff  old  Colonel  laughed  and  turned  away ; 
Ten  minutes  later  came  his  sole  reply — 
A  basketful  of  luxuries  from  his  mess. 


Paul  marched  and  fought  and  marched  and  fought 

again, 

Patient  and  earnest  through  the  bootless  toils 
And  fiery  trials  of  that  dread  campaign 
Upon  the  Peninsula.     'Tis  fitly  called 
"  Campaign  of  Battles."     Aye,  it  sorely  pierced 
The  scarred  and  bleeding  nation,  and  drew  blood 
Deep  from  her  vitals  till  she  shook  and  reeled, 
Like  some  vast  giant  staggering  to  his  fall, — 
Blinded  with  blood,  yet  struggling  with  his  soul, 
And  stretching  forth  his  ponderous,  brawny  arms, 
Like  Samson  in  the  Temple,  to  o'erwhelm 
And  crush  his  mocking  enemies  in  his  fall. 


PAULINE.  31 

Ah,  Malvern!  you  remember  Malvern  Hill, — 
That  night  of  fearful  butchery  !     Round  the  top 
Of  the  entrenched  summit,  parked  and  aimed, 
Blazed  like  Vesuvius  when  he  bellows  fire 
And  molten  lava  into  the  midnight  heavens, 
An  hundred  crashing  cannon,  and  the  hill 
Shook  to  the  thunder  of  the  mighty  guns, 
As  ocean  trembles  to  the  bursting  throes 
Of  submarine  volcanoes ;  and  the  shells 
From  the  embattled  gun-boats — fiery  slugs, 
As  blazing  meteors — through  the  ether  hissed 
Like  Hell's  infernals.     Line  supporting  line, 
From  base  to  summit  round  the  blazing  hill, 
Our  infantry  was  posted.     Crowned  with  fire, 
And  zoned  by  many  a  blazing,  burning  belt 
From  head  to  foot,  and  belching  sulphurous  flames, 
The  embattled  hill  appeared  a  raging  fiend— 
The  Lucifer  of  Hell  let  loose  to  reign 
Over  a  world  wrapt  in  the  final  fires. 


In  solid  columns  massed  our  frenzied  foes 
Beat  out  their  life  against  the  blazing  hill ; — 


32  PAULINE. 

Broke  and  re-formed  and  madly  charged  again, 
And  thundered  like  the  storm-lashed,  furious  sea 
Beating  in  vain  against  the  solid  cliffs. 
Foremost  in  front  our  veteran  regiment 
Breasted  the  brunt  of  battle,  but  we  bent 
Beneath  the  onsets  as  the  red-hot  bar 
Bends  to  the  sledge,  until  our  furious  foes — 
Baffled  and  beaten — mown  like  prairie-grass 
Before  autumnal  fires — fell  back  and  left 
A  field  of  bloody  agony  and  death 
About  the  base,  and  victory  on  the  hill. 


I  lost  a  score  of  riflemen  that  night ; 

My  first  lieutenant — his  last  battle"  over — 

Lay  cut  in  twain  upon  the  battle-line. 

With  lantern  dim  wide  o'er  the  frightful  field 

I  searched  at  midnight  for  my  wounded  men, 

But  chiefly  searched  for  Paul.     An  hour  or  more 

I  sought  among  the  groaning  and  the  dead, 

Stooping  and  to  the  dim  light  turning  up 

The  ghastly  faces,  till  at  last  I  found 

Him  whom  I  sought,  and  on  the  outer  line, — 


PA  ULINE.  33 

Feet  to  the  foe  and  silent  face  to  Heaven, — 
Dead-pale  and  bleeding  from  a  dangerous  wound, 
Gashed  by  the  ragged  fragment  of  a  shell. 
Pleading  with  feeble  voice  to  let  him  be 
And  die  upon  the  field,  we  bore  him  thence ; 
And  tenderly  his  comrades  carried  him, 
Sheltered  with  blankets,  on  the  weary  march 
At  dead  of  night  in  dismal  storm  becfun. 

o  o 

We  made  a  stand  at  Harrison's,  and  there 
With  careful  hands  we  laid  him  on  a  cot. 
Now  I  had  learned  to  prize  the  noble  boy ; 
My  heart  was  touched  with  pity.     Patiently 
I  watched  o'er  Paul  and  bathed  his  fevered  brow, 
And  pressed  the  cooling  sponge  upon  his  lips, 
And  washed  his  wound  and  gave  him  nourishment. 
'Twas  all  in  vain,  the  surgeon  said.     I  felt 
That  I  could  save  him  and  I  kept  my  watch. 
A  rib  was  crushed, — beneath  it  one  could  see 
The  throbbing  vitals — torn,  as  we  supposed, 
But  found  unwounded.     In  his  feverish  dreams 
He  often  moaned  and  muttered  mysteries, 
And  seemed  to  speak  to  one  he  dearly  loved. 
I  questioned  him  and  sought  the  secret  key 


34  PA  ULINE. 

To  solve  his  mystery,  but  all  in  vain. 

A  month  of  careful  nursing  turned  the  scale, 

And  he  began  to  gain  upon  his  wound. 

Propt  in  his  cot  one  evening  as  he  sat, 

And  I  sat  by  him,  thus  I  questioned  hi-m : 

"  There  is  a  mystery  about  your  life 

That  I  would  gladly  fathom.     Paul,  I  think 

You  well  may  trust  me,  and  I  fain  would  hear 

The  story  of  your  life  ;  right  well  I  know 

There  is  a  secret  sorrow  in  your  heart." 


He  turned  his  face  and  fixed  his  lustrous  eyes      „, 

Upon  mine  own  enquiringly,  and  held 

His  gaze  upon  me  till  his  vacant  stare 

Told  me  full  well  his  thoughts  had  wandered  back 

Into  the  depths  of  his  own  silent  soul ; 

Then  he  looked  down  and  sadly  smiled  and  said : 


"  Captain,  I  have  no  history — not  one  page ; 
My  book  of  life  is  but  a  blotted  blank. 
Let  it  be  sealed  ;  I  would  not  open  it, 


PA  ULINE.  35 

Even  to  you  who  saved  a  worthless  life, 

Only  to  add  a  few  more  leaves  in  blank 

To  the  blank  volume.     All  that  I  now  am 

I  offer  for  our  country.     If  I  live 

And  from  this  cot  walk  forth,  'twill  only  be 

'  To  march  and  fight  and  march  and  fight  again/ 

Until  a  surer  aim  shall  bring  me  down 

Where  care  and  kindness  can  no  more  avail. 

Under  our  Country's  flag  a  soldier's  death 

I  hope  to  die  and  leave  no  name  behind. 

My  only -wish  is  this, — for  what  I  am 

Or  have  b'een,  or  have  hoped  to  be,  is  now 

A  blank  misfortune.  I  will  say  no  more." 

I  questioned  Paul  and  pressed  him  further  still 

To  tell  his  story,  but  he  only  shook 

His  head  in  silence  sadly  and  lay  back, 

And  closed  his  eyes  and  whispered — "  All  is  blank." 

That  night  he  muttered  often  as  he  slept ; 

I  could  not  catch  the  sense  of  what  he  said ; 

I  caught  a  name  that  he  repeated  oft — 

Pauline — so  softly  whispered  that  I  thought 

It  was  the  balmy  burden, of  his  dreams. 


36  PAULINE. 

Two  moons  had  waxed  and  waned,  and  Paul  arose, 

Came  to  the  camp  and  shared  my  tent  and  bed. 

While  in  the  hospital,  he  helpless  lay — 

To  him  unknown,  and  as  the  choice  of  all — 

Came  his  promotion  to  the  vacant  rank 

Of  him  who  fell  at  Malvern.     But,  alas, 

Say  what  we  would  he  would  not  take  the  post. 

To  us  who  importuned  him,  he  replied : 

"  Comrades  and  friends,  I  did  not  join  your  ranks 

For  honor  or  for  profit.     All  I  am — 

A  wreck  perhaps  of  what  I  might  have  been — 

I  freely  offer  in  our  Country's  cause  ; 

And  in  her  cause  it  is  my  wish  to  serve, 

A  private  soldier ;  I  aspire  to  naught 

But  victory, — and  there  be  better  men — 

Braver  and  hardier, — such  should  have  the  place." 


His  comrades    cheered,  but  Paul,  methought,  was 

sad. 

One  evening  as  he  sat  upon  his  couch, 
Communing  with  himself,  as  he  was  wont, 
I  sat  before  him  ;  gazing  in  his  face, 


PAULINE.  37 

I  said,  "  Pauline, — her  name  is  then,  Pauline" 
All  of  a  sudden  up  he  rose  amazed, 
And  looked  upon  me  with  such  startled  eyes, 
That  I  was  pained,  and  feared  that  I  had  done 
A  wrong  to  him  whom  I  had  learned  to  love. 
Then  he  sat  down  upon  his  couch  and  groaned, 
And  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  wound,  and  said : 
"  Captain,  I  pray  you,  tell  me  truthfully, 
Wherefore  you  speak  that  name." 


I  told  him  all 

That  I  had  heard  him  mutter  in  his  dreams. 
He  listened  calmly  to  the  close  and  said : 
"  My  friend,  if  you  have  any  kind  regard 
For  me  who  suffer  more  than  you  may  ki&ow, 
I  pray  you  utter  not  that  name  again." 
And  thereupon  he  turned  and  hid  his  face. 


There  was  a  mystery  I  might  not  fathom, 

There  was  a  history  I  might  not  hear : 

Nor  could  I  further  press  that  saddened  heart 


38  PA  ULINE. 

Its  secret  sorrow  in  my  ears  to  pour. 
Thereafter  Paul  was  tenant  of  my  tent, — 
Ate  at  rny  mess  and  slept  upon  my  couch, 
Save  when  his5  duty  called  him  from  my  side, 
And  not  a  word  escaped  his  lips  or  mine 
About  his  secret, — yet  how  oft  I  found 
My  eyes  upon  him  and  my  bridled  tongue 
Prone  to  a  question ;  but  that  solemn  face 
Forbade  me  and  he  wore  his  mystery. 


At  that  grand  battle  on  Antietam's  banks 
Where  gallant  Hooker  led  the  fierce  attack, 
Paul  bore  a  glorious  part.     Our  starry  flag — 
Before  a  whirlwind  of  terrific  fire 
Advancing  proudly  on  the  foe,  went  down. 
Grim  death  and  pale-faced  panic  seized  the  ranks. 
Paul  caught  the  flag  and  waving  it  aloft 
Rallied  our  regiment.     He  came  out  unscathed. 


At  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  he  fought ; 
Grim  in  disaster, — bravest  in  defeat, 


PA  II LINE.  39 

He  leaped  not  into  danger  without  cause, 
Nor  shrunk  he  from  it  though  a  gulf  of  fire, 
When  duty  bade  him  face  it.     All  his  aim — 
To  win  the  victory ;  applause  and  praise 
He  almost  hated  ;  grimly  he  endured 
The  fulsome  flattery  of  his  comrades  nerved 
By  his  calm  courage  up  to  manlier  deeds. 


I  saw  him  angered  once  if  one  might  call 

His  sullen  silence  anger,  as  by  night 

Across  the  Rappahannock,  from  the  field 

Where  grim  and  gallant  '  Stonewall '  Jackson  fell, 

With  hopeless  hearts  and  heavy  steps  we  marched. 

Such  graven  wrath  on  other  human  face 

I  never  saw  in  all  those  bloody  years. 

One  evening  after,  as  he  read  to  me 

The  fulsome  General  Order  of  our  Chief — 

Congratulating  officers  and  men 

On  their  achievements  in  the  late  defeat — 

His  sullen  face  grew  rigid  as  he  read, 

And  as  he  closed,  down  like  a  thunder-clap 

Upon  the  mess-chest  fell  his  clenched  fist : 


40  PA  ULINE. 

"  Fit  pap  for  fools!"  he  said, — "' an  Iron  Duke 
Had  ground  the  Southern  legions  into  dust, 
Or,  by  the  gods ! — the  field  of  Chancellorsville 
Had  furnished  graves  for  ninety  thousand  men!  "* 


That  dark  disaster  sickened  many  a  soul ; 
Stout  hearts  were  sad  and  cowards  cried  for  peace. 
The  vulture,  perched  hard  by  the  eagle's  crag, 
Loud-cawed  his  fellows  from  afar  to  feast 
Upon  the  poor  Republic's  bleeding  limbs. 
Ill-omened  bird, — his  carrion-cries  were  vain ! 
Again  our  veteran  eagles  plumed  their  wings, 
And  forth  he  fled  from  Montezuma's  shores, — 
A  dastard  fight — betraying  unto  death 
Him  whom  he  dazzled  with  a  bauble  crown. 
Just  retribution  followed  swift  and  sure, — 
Germania's  eagles  plucked  him  at  Sedan. 
A  gloomy  month  wore  off,  and  then  the  news 
That  Lee,  emboldened  by  his  late  success, 
Had  poured  his  legions  upon  Northern  soil, 

*Hooker  had  90,000  men  at  Chancellorsville. 


PA  ULINE.  41 

Rung  through  the  camp,  and  thrilled  the  mighty 
heart 

Of  the  Grand  Army.     Louder  than  the  roar 

Of  brazen  cannon  on  the  battle-field, 

Then  rose  and  rolled  our  thunder-rounds  of  cheers. 

We  saw  the  dawn  of  victory, — we  should  meet 

Our  monster  foe  upon  familiar  soil. 

We  cheered  the  news,  we  cheered  the  marching- 
orders, 

We  cheered  our  gallant  chieftain  till  the  tears 

Ran  down  his  cheeks.     Up  from  its  sullen  gloom 

Leaped  the  Grand  Army,  as  if  God  had  writ 

With  fiery  finger  'thwart  the  vault  of  Heaven 

A  solemn  promise  of  swift  victory. 


We  marched.     As  rolls  the  deep,  resistless  flood 
Of  Mississippi,  when  the  rains  of  June 
Have  swelled  his  thousand  northern  fountain-lakes 
Above  their  barriers, — rolls  with  restless  roar, 
Anon  through  rock-built  gorges,  and  anon, 
Down  through  the  prairied  valley  to  the  sea, 
Gleaming  and  glittering  in  the  summer  sun. 


42  PA  ULINE. 

By  field  and  forest  on  his  winding  way ; 
So  stretched  and  rolled  the  mighty  column  forth, 
Winding  among  the  hills  and  pouring  out 
Along  the  vernal  valleys  ;  so  the  sheen 
Of  moving  bayonets  glittered  in  the  sun. 
And  as  we  marched  there  rolled  upon  the  air, 
Up  from  the  vanguard-corps,  a  choral  chant, 
Feeble  at  first  and  far  and  far  away, 
But  gathering  volume  as  it  rolled  along, 
And  regiment  after  regiment  joined  the  choir, 
Until  an  hundred  thousand  voices  swelled 
The  surging  chorus,  and  the  solid  hills 
Shook  to  the  thunder  of  the  mighty  song. 
And  as  it  died  away  along  the  line, 
The  hill-tops  caught  the  chorus — rolled  away 
From  peak  to  peak  the  pealing  thunder  chant, 
Clear  as  the  chime  of  bells  on  Sabbath  morn  ; 
"  THE  UNION — THE  UNION  FOREVER!  " 


Far  away 

The  mountains  echoed  and  re-echoed  still, — 
"  THE  UNION— THE  UNION  FOREVER  ! " 


PA  ULINE.  43 

Till  the  winds 

Bore  the  re-echoing  chorus  southward  far, 
And  the  dull  distance  lost  it  to  our  ears. 


Fast  by  the  field  where  glorious  Baker  fell, 
We  crossed  the  famous  river  and  advanced 
To  Frederick.     There  a  transitory  cloud 
Gloomed  the  Grand  Army, — Hooker  was  relieved,— 
The  dashing,  daring,  soul-inspiring  chief,-- 
The  idol  of  his  soldiers,  and  they  mourned. 
He  had  his  faults,— they  were  not  faults  of  heart,— 
His  gravest — fiery  valor.     Since  that  day, 
The  self-same  fault— or  virtue — crowned  a  chief 
With  laurel  plucked  on  rugged  Kennesaw. 
Envy  it  was  that  wrought  the  hero's  fall, 
Envy,  with  hydra-heads  and  serpent-tongues, 
Hissed  on  the  wolfish  clamors  of  the  Press. 
O  fickle  Fortune,  how  thy  favors  fall- 
Like  rain  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust ! 
Throughout  the  army,  as  the  soldiers  read 
The  farewell-order,  gloomy  murmurs  ran  ; 
But  our  new  chieftan  fortified  our  hearts. 


44  PA  ULINE. 

That  Meade  would  choose  his  battle-ground  we  knew, 

And  if  not  his  the  eager  dash  and  dare, 

That  on  Antietam's  bloody  battle-field 

Snatched  victory  from  defeat,  our  faith  was  firm 

That  he  would  fight  for  victory,  holding  us 

Safely  in  hand,  nor  sacrifice  our  lives 

In  wild  assaults  and  fruitless  daring-  deeds. 


From  Taneytown,  at  mid-day,  on  the  hills 
Of  Gettysburg  we  heard  the  cannon  boom. 
Our  gallant  Hancock  rode  full  speed  away, 
And  under  Gibbon  fast  we  followed  him, 
And  camped  at  night  on  Cemetery  Hill. 
Sharp  the  initial  combat  of  the  grand 
On-coming  battle,  and  the  sulphurous  smoke 
Lay  like  a  fog  along  the  narrow  vale 
Between  two  hostile  armies,  mightier  far 
Than  met  upon  the  field  of  Marathon, 
Or  where  the  proud  Carthago  bowed  to  Rome. 
Hope  of  the  North  and  Liberty — the  one — 
Pride  of  the  South — the  other.     On  the  hills — 
A  rolling  range  of  rugged,  royal  hills, 


PA  ULINE.  45 

Stretching    from    Round-Top    northward,    curving 

thence 

And  butting  down  upon  a  silver  stream — 
In  hasty  works  our  veteran  regiments  lay. 
Facing  our  battle-line  and  parallel — 
Beyond  the  narrow  valley  to  the  west — 
Lay  Seminary  Ridge — a  crest  of  hills, 
Partially  wooded.     On  this  serrate  range, 
As  numerous  as  the  swarming  ocean-fowl 
That  perch  in  squadrons  on  some  barren  isle, 
Far  in  the  Arctic  sea  when  summer-sun 
With  slanting  spears  invades  the  icy  realm, 
The  Southern  legions  lay  upon  their  arms. 
As  countless  as  the  winter-evening  stars 
That  glint  and  glow  above  the  frosted  fields 
Twinkled  and  blazed  upon  that  crest  of  hills 
The  camp-fires  of  the  foe.     Two  mighty  hosts, 
Ready  and  panoplied  for  deadliest  war, 
And  eager  for  the  combat  where  the  prize 
Of  victory  was  Empire, — for  the  foe 
An  empire  borne  upon  the  bended  backs 
Of  toiling  slaves  in  millions, — but  for  us 
An  empire  grounded  on  the  rights  of  man — 


46  PA  ULINE. 

Lay  on  their  arms  awaiting  innocent  morn 
To  light  the  field  for  slaughter  to  begin. 


Silent  above  us  spread  the  dusky  heavens, 
Silent  below  us  lay  the  shrouded  vale, 
Silent  beyond,  the  dreadful  crest  of  hills. 
Anon  the  neigh  of  horse,  a  sentry's  call, 
Or  rapid  hoof-beats  of  a  flying  steed 
Bearing  an  aid  and  orders,  broke  the  dread, 
Portentous  silence.     I  was  worn  and  slept. 


The  call  of  bugles  wakened  me.     The  dawn 
Was  stealing  softly  o'er  the  shadowy  land 
And  morning  grew  apace.     Broad  in  the  east 
Uprose  above  the  crest  of  hazy  hills, 
Like  some  vast  shield  by  fabled  giant  borne, 
The  golden  sun,  and  flashed  upon  the  field, 

• 

While  far  on  either  hand  the  rugged  heights 
Swarmed  with  the  busy  bustle  of  the  camps. 
The  morning  passed  and  mid-day.     Here  and  there 
The  crack  of  rifle  on  the  picket-line, 


PA  ULINE.  47 

Or  boom  of  solitary  cannon  broke 

The  myriad-voic'd  and  dreadful  monotone. 

So  fled  the  anxious  hours  until  the  hills 

Sent  forth  their  silent  shadows  to  the  east, — 

And  then  their  batteries  opened  on  our  left 

Advanced  into  the  valley.     All  along 

The  serried  crest  of  Seminary  Ridge 

Rolled  up  the  smoke  of  cannon.     Answered  then 

The  grim  artillery  on  our  chain  of  hills, 

And  heaven  was  hideous  with  the  bellowing  boom, 

The  whiz  of  shot,  the  infernal  shrieks  of  shells. 

Down  from  the  hills  their  charging  column  came 

A  glittering  mass  of  steel.     As  when  the  snow 

Piled  by  an  hundred  winters  on  the  peak 

Of  cloud-robed  Bernard  thunders  down  the  cliffs, 

Nor  rocks  nor  forests  stay  the  mighty  mass, 

And  men  and  flocks  in  terror  fly  the  death, 

So  thundering  fell  the  column  of  the  foe — 

Crushing  brave  Sickles'  corps  in  front  and  flank, 

And  roaring  onward  like  a  mighty  wind. 

But  Hancock  saw  the  peril :  up  we  leaped 

And  dashed  for  Round-Top — rugged  eminence — 

Key  to  our  Left  and  Centre.     Stormed  and  yelled 


48  PA  ULINE. 

The  furious  foemen  pressing  on  the  charge 
To  gain  the  rugged  hill.     We  reached  it  first 
And  formed  our  line  behind  a  broken  wall. 
On  came  the  surging  column.     Sword  in  hand, 
Waving  and  shouting  to  his  frenzied  corps, 
Rode  furious  Longstreet  leading  on  the  foe. 
An  hundred  cannon  on  our  blazing  hills 
Poured  down  their  iron  storm  of  shot  and  shell, 
Continuous  crashed  the  rounds  of  musketry, 
And  high  above  the  horrid  tempest  howled 
The  hideous  shouts  of  the  advancing  host. 
Even  as  a  whirlwind  charged  with  lightning  roars 
Down  through  a  dusky  forest  and  its  path 
Is  strown  with  shattered  and  uprooted  trees — 
Promiscuous  piled  in  broad  and  broken  swaths — 
So  crashed  our  volleys  through  their  serried  ranks- 
Mowing  great  swaths  of  death, — yet  on  and  up — 
Closing  the  gaps  and  yelling  like  the  fiends 
That  Dante  heard  along  the  gulf  of  Hell- 
Still  came  our  furious  foes.     A  cloud  of  smoke, 
Dense,  blinding,  sulphurous,  shrouded  all  the  hill. 
Our  rifles  blazed  upon  the  blaze  below, 
The  blaze  below  upon  the  blaze  above, 


PA  ULINE.  49 

And  in  the  blaze  the  buzz  of  myriad  bees 
Whose  stings  were  deadlier  than  the  Libyan  asp. 
On — up  they  come  like  demons  through  the  smoke, — 
They  reach  the  crest, — they  rush  upon  the  wall ! 
Lo  from  our  line  a  sheet  of  crackling  fire 
"Scorches  their  grimy  faces, — back  they  reel 
And  tumble — down  and  down — a  rolling  mass 
Of  slaughter  and  defeat ! 


Leaped  on  the  wall 

Ten  thousand  "  Blues  "  and  swung  their  hats  in  air, 
Thundering  their  wild  huzzas  above  the  roar 
And  crash  of  cannon  ; — victory  was  ours. 
Back  to  his  crest  of  hills  the  baffled  foe 
Reluctant  turned  and  fled  the  storm  of  death. 


The  smoke  of  battle  floated  from  the  field, 
And  lo  the  hillside  piled  with  slaughter-heaps ! 
And  lo  the  valley  dotted  with  the  slain  ! 
And  lo  the  rank  of  dead  and  dying  men 
That  fighting-  fell  behind  the  battered  wall  ! 


50  PAULINE. 

Night  hovered  o'er  us  on  her  dusky  wings ; 
Then  all  along  our  lines  upon  the  hills 
Blazed  up  the  evening  camp-fires.     Facing  us 
Beyond  the  smoke-robed  valley  sparkled  up 
A  chain  of  fires  on  Seminary  Ridge. 
The  hum  of  mingled  voices  filled  the  air. 
As  when  upon  the  bosom  of  the  sea 
And  all  along  the  rock-built,  somber  shore 
Murmurs  the  menace  of  the  coming  storm, — 
The  muttering  of  the  tempest  from  afar, 
The  plash  and  moan  of  surf  upon  the  sand, 
The  roll  of  distant  thunder  in  the  heavens, 
Unite  and  blend  in  one  prevailing  voice, 
So  rose  the  mingled  murmurs  of  our  camps, 
So  rose  the  groans  and  moans  of  mangled  men 
Along  the  slope  and  valley,  and  so  rolled 
From  yonder  frowning  parallel  of  hills 
The  muttering  menace  of  our  furious  foes ; 
And  so  from  camp  to  camp  and  hill  to  hill 
Murmured  the  mighty  mutter-mingled  moan 
Of  an  hundred  thousand  voices  blent  in  one. 


PAULINE.  51 

That  night  a  multitude  of  friends  and  foes 
Slept  soundly, — but  they  slept  to  wake  no  more. 
But  few  indeed  among  the  living  slept ; 
We  lay  upon  our  arms  and  courted  sleep 
With  open  eyes  and  ears :  the  fears  and  hopes 
That  centered  in  the  half-fought  battle  held 
The  balm  of  slumber  from  our  weary  limbs. 
Anon  the  rattle  of  the  random  fire 
Broke  on  our  eager  ears  and  startled  us, 
Whereat  the  hardier  veterans  cursed  aloud. 


Midnight  had  passed  and  I  lay  wakeful  still, 
When  Paul  arose  and  sat  upon  the  sward. 
He  said  :  "  I  cannot  sleep  ;  unbidden  thoughts 
That  will  not  down  crowd  on  my  restless  brain. 
Captain,  I  know  not  how,  but  still  I  know 
That  I  shall  see  but  one  more  sunrise.     Morn 
Will  bring  the  clash  of  arms, — to-morrow's  sun 
Will  look  upon  unnumbered  ghastly  heaps 
And  withered  ranks  of  dead  and  dying  men, 
And  ere  it  sink  beyond  the  western  hills 
Up  from  this  field  shall  roll  a  mighty  shout 


52  PAULINE. 

Victorious,  echoed  wide  o'er  land  and  sea, 
Proclaiming  joy  to  freemen  everywhere. 
And  I  shall  fall.     I  cannot  tell  you  how 
I  know  it — but  I  feel  it  in  my  soul. 
I  pray  that  death  may  spare  me  till  I  hear 
Our  shout  of  '  Victory  !  '  rolling  o'er  these  hills 
With  '  Hail  Columbia  !  '  from  our  bugle-horns  ;- 
Then  will  I  lay  me  down  and  die  in  peace." 


I  lightly  said, — "  Sheer  superstition,  Paul  ; 
I'll  wager  a  month's  pay  you'll  live  to  fight 
A  dozen  battles  yet.     They  ill  become 
A  gallant  soldier  on  the  battle  field- 
Such  grandam  superstitions.     You  have  fought 
Ever  like  a  hero, — do  you  falter  now  ?  " 


"  Captain,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  not  falter  now, — 
But  gladlier  will  I  hail  the  rising  sun. 
Death  has  no  terror  for  a  heart-forlorn. 
Say  what  you  may  and  call  it  what  you  will-r- 
I  know  that  I  shall  fall  to  rise  no  more 


PAULINE.  53 

Before  the  sun-set  of  the  coming  day. 
If  this  be  superstition — still  I  know ; 
If  this  be  fear  it  will  not  hold  me  back." 
I  answered : 

"  Paul,  I  hope  this  prophecy 
Will  prove  you  a  false  prophet ;  but,  my  boy, 
Have  you  no  farewells  for  your  friends  at  home  ? 
No  message  for  a  nearer,  dearer  one  ?  " 


"  None ;  there  is  none  I  knew  in  brighter  days 
Knows  where  or  what  I  am,     So  let  it  be. 
If  there  be  those — not  many — who  may  care 
For  one  who  cares  so  little  for  himself, 
Surely  my  soldier-name  in  the  gazette 
Among  the  killed  will  bring  no  pang  to  them." 
And  then  he  laid  himself  upon  the  sward  ; 
Perhaps  he  slept, — I  know  not,  for  fatigue 
O'ercame  me  and  I  slept. 

The  picket  guns 
At  random  firing  wakened  me.     The  morn 


54  PAULINE. 

Blushed  in  the  east  and  sat  upon  the  hills, 

While  clouds  of  smoke  filled  all  the  narrow  vales. 

Blood-red  as  risen  from  a  sea  of  blood, 

The  tardy  sun  as  if  in  dread  arose, 

And  hid  his  face  in  the  uplifting  smoke. 

As  when  pale  Luna,  envious  of  the  glow 

And  gleam  and  glory  of  the  god  of  day, 

Creeps  in  by  stealth  between  the  earth  and  him, 

Eclipsing  all  his  glory,  and  the  green 

Of  hills  and  dales  is  changed  to  yellowish  dun, 

So  fell  the  strange  and  lurid  light  of  morn. 

And  as  I  gazed  I  heard  the  hunger-cries 

Of  vultures  circling  on  their  dusky  wings 

Above  the  smoke-filled  valley ;  then  they  plunged 

To  gorge  themselves  upon  the  slaughter-heaps, 

As  at  that  Buddhist  temple  in  Siam 

Whereto  the  hideous  vultures  flock  to  feast 

With  famished  dogs  upon  the  pauper  dead. 


The  day  wore  on.     Two  mighty  armies  stood 
Defiant, — watching, — dreading  to  assault ; 
Each  hoping  that  the  other  would  assault 


PAULINE.  55 

And  madly  dash  against  its  glittering  steel. 
As  in  the  jungles  of  the  Chambeze, — 
Glaring  defiance  with  their  fiery  eyes, — 
Two  tawny  lions — rival  monarchs — meet 
And  fright  the  forest  with  their  horrid  roar ; 
But  ere  they  close  in  bloody  combat,  crouch 
And  wait  and  watch  for  vantage  in  attack  ; 
So  on  their  trenched  hills  the  hostile  hosts 
Waited  and  watched  for  vantage  in  the  fight. 
Noon  came.     The  fire  of  pickets  died  away. 
All  eyes  were  turned  to  Seminary  Ridge, 
For  lo  our  sullen  foemen — park  on  park — 
Had  massed  their  grim  artillery  on  our  corps. 
Hoarse  voices  sunk  to  whispers  or  were  hushed  ; 
The  rugged  hills  stood  listening  in  awe ; 
So  dread  the  ominous  silence  that  I  heard 
The  hearts  of  soldiers  throbbing  along  the  line. 


Up  from  a  battery  curled  a  cloud  of  smoke, 
Shrieked  o'er  our  heads  a  solitary  shell ; — 
Then  instantly  in  horrid  concert  roared 
Two  hundred  cannon  on  the  frowning  hills — 


56  PAULINE. 

Hurling  their  awful  thunderbolts — and  then 

An  hundred  bellowing  canon  from  our  lines 

Thundered  their  iron  answer.     Horrible 

Rolled  in  the  heavens  the  infernal  thunders, — rolled 

From  hill  to  hill  the  reverberating  roar, 

As  if  the  earth  were  bursting  with  the  throes 

Of  some  vast  pent  volcano  ;  rocked  and  reeled, 

As  in  an  earthquake-shock  the  solid  hills  ; 

Anon  huge  fragments  of  the  hillside  rocks, 

And  limbs  and  splinters  of  shot-shattered  trees 

Danced    in   the    smoke  like   demons ;    hissed    and 

howled 

The  crashing  shell-storm  bursting  over  us. 
Prone  on  the  earth  awaiting  the  grand  charge, 
To  which  we  knew  the  heavy  cannonade 
Was  but  a  prelude,  for  two  hours  we  lay, 
And  many  a  brave  man  never  rose  again. 
Then  ceased  our  guns  to  swell  the  infernal  roar; 
The  rolling  crash  of  cannon  in  our  front 
Lulled,  and  we  heard  the  foeman's  bugle-calls. 
Lo  from  the  crest  of  Seminary  Ridge  * 

Poured  down  the  storming  columns  of  the  foe. 
As  when  the  rain-clouds  from  the  verge  of  heaven 


PAULINE.  57 

Are  gathered  by  the  four  contending  winds, 
And  whirled  and  swirled  until  they  meet  and  clash 
Above  the  hills  and  burst — down  pours  a  sea, 
And  plunges  roaring  down  the  rocky  glens, 
So  poured  the  surging  columns  of  our  foes 
Adown  the  slopes  and  spread  along  the  vale 
In  glittering  ranks  of  battle — line  on  line 
Mile-long.     Arose  their  furious  battlo  cries 
Above  the  roar  of  cannon. 

They  advance. 

Before  them  swarm  the  skillful  skirmishers ; 
A  fearless  chieftan  leads  the  eager  host ; 
He  right  and  left  his  fiery  charger  wheels, 
And  points  with  gleaming  sabre  to  our  lines. 
As  'mid  the  myriad  twinkling  stars  of  heaven 
Flashes  the  blazing  comet,  and  a  column 
Of  fiery  fury  follows  it,  so  flashed 
The  dauntless  chief,  so  followed  his  wild  host. 


We  waited  grim  and  silent  till  they  crossed 
The  valley  and  began  the  dread  ascent. 


58  PAULINE. 

Then  brazen  bugles  rang  the  clarion  call, — 
Arose  as  one  twice  twenty  thousand  men, 
And  all  our  hill-tops  blazed  with  crackling  fire. 
With  sudden  crash  and  simultaneous  roar, 
An  hundred  canon  opened  instantly, 
And  all  the  vast  hills  shuddered  under  us. 
Yelling  their  mad  defiance  to  our  fire 
Still  on  and  upward  came  our  furious  foes. 
As  when  upon  the  wooded  mountain-side 
;  The  unchained  "::'Loki  riots  and  the  winds 
Of  an  autumnal  tempest  lash  the  flames, 
Whirling  the  burning  fragments  through  the  air — 
Huge  blazing  limbs  and  tops  of  blasted  pines, 
Mowing  wide  swaths  with  circling  scythes  of  fire, 
So  fell  our  fire  upon  the  advancing  host, 
And  lashed  their  ranks  and  mowed  them  into  heaps, 
Cleaving  broad  avenues  of  death.     Still  on 
And  up  they  come  undaunted,  closing  up 
The  ghastly  gaps  and  firing  as  they  come. 
As  if  protected  by  the  shield  of  Heaven, 
Rides  at  their  head  their  gallant  leader  still  ; 
The  tempest  drowns  his  voice, — his  flaming  sword 

*Norse  fire-fiend. 


PAULINE.  59 

Gleams  in  the  flash  of  rifles.     One  wild  yell, 
Swelled  by  ten  thousand  hideous  voices,  rings 
Along  the  slope  like  the  fierce  hungry-howl 
Of  famished  wolves  upon  the  bison's  track, 
And  through  the  battle-cloud  the  bravest  burst ; 
They  plant  their  tattered  banner  on  our  works  ; 
Thunders  their  shout  of  victory  !     Appalled, 
Our  serried  ranks  are  broken, — but  in  vain  ! 
On  either  hand  our  cannon  enfilade, 
And  pour  their  iron  storms  of  canister ; 
In  front  our  deadly  rifles  volley  still, 
And  mow  the  toppling  swaths  of  mangled  men. 
Behold  they  falter  !  —now  they  break  ! — they  fly  ! 
Leap  to  the  charge  our  eager  infantry, 
With  cheers-  that  echo  on  the  vault  of  heaven  ! 
We  press  them  headlong  down  the  bloody  hill ; 
They  break  in  wild  disorder,  cast  away 
Their  arms  and  fly  in  panic.     All  the  vale 
Is  spread  with  slaughter  and  wild  fugitives. 
Wide  o'er  the  field  the  scattered  foeman  fly ; 
Dread  havoc  and  mad  terror  swift  pursue 
Till  battle  is  but  slaughter.     Thousands  fall — 
Thousands  surrender,  and  the  Southern  flag 
Is  trailed  upon  the  field.  . 


60  PA  ULINE. 

The  day  was  ours, 

And  well  we  knew  the  worth  of  victory. 
Loud   rolled    the    rounds   of  cheers  from   corps  to 

corps ; 

Comrades  embraced  each  other  ;  iron  men 
Shed  tears  of  joy  like  women  ;  men  profane 
Fell  on  their  knees  and  thanked  Almighty  God. 
Then  "  Hail  Columbia  !  "  rang  the  brazen  horns, 
And  all  the  hill-tops  shouted  unto  heaven  ; 
The  we'ikin  shouted  to  the  shouting  hills, — 
And  heavens  and  hill-tops  shouted  "  Victory  /" 


Night  with  her  pall  had  wrapped  the  bloody  field. 

The  remnants  of  my  gallant  company 

Were  gathered  and  encamped  upon  the  hill. 

Paul  was  not  with  them,  and  they  could  not  tell 

Aught  of  him.     I  had  seen  him  in  the  fight 

Bravest  of  all  the  brave.     I  saw  him  last 

When  first  the  foremost  foeman  reached  our  works, 

Thrusting  them  off  with  bloody  bayonet, 

And  shouting  to  his  comrades,  "  Steady,  men  !  " 

Sadly  I  wandered  back  where  we  had  met 


PAULINE.  6 1 

The  onset  of  the  foe.     The  rounds  of  cheers 

Repeated  oft  still  swept  from  corps  to  corps, 

And  as  I  passed  along  the  line  I  saw 

Our  wounded  soldiers  raise  their  weary  heads, 

And  cheer  with  feeble  voices.     Even  in  death 

The  cry  of  victory  warmed  their  hearts  again. 

Paul  lay  upon  the  ground  where  he  had  fought, 

Fast  by  the  flag  that  floated  on  the  line. 

He  slept, — or  seemed  to  sleep,  but  on  his  brow 

Sat  such  a  deadly  palor  that  I  feared 

My  Paul  would  never  march  and  fight  again. 

I  raised  his  head, — he  woke  as  from  a  dream  ; 

I  said,  "  Be  quiet, — you  are  badly  hurt ; 

I'll  call  a  surgeon ;  we  will  dress  your  wound." 

He  gravely  said  : 

"  'Tis  vain  ;  for  I  have  done 

With  camp  and  march  and  battle.     Ere  the  dawn 
Shall  I  be  mustered  out  of  your  command, 
And  mustered  into  the  Grand  Army  of  Heaven." 


I  sought  a  surgeon  on  the  field  and  found  ; 
With  me  he  came  and  opened  the  bloody  blouse. 


62  PAULINE. 

Felt  the  dull  pulse  and  sagely  shook  his  head. 
A  musket  ball  had  done  its  deathly  work  ; 
There  was  no  hope,  he  said,  the  man  might  live 
A  day — or  two, — but  had  no  need  of  him. 
I  called  his  comrades  and  we  carried  him 
Upon  his  blankets  softly  to  our  camp, 
And  laid  him  by  the  camp-fire.     As  the  light 
Fell  on  Paul's  face  he  took  my  hand  and  said: 


PAULINE. 
PART  IL 

"  Captain  ;  I  hear  the  cheers.     My  soul  is  glad. 
My  days  are  numbered,  but  this  glorious  day- 
Like  some  far  beacon  on  a  shadowy  cape 
That  guides  and  cheers  the  storm-belabored  ships, 
When  midnight  tempests  lash  the  seething  sea, 
Will  light  the  misty  ages  from  afar. 
This  field  shall  be  the  Mecca.     Here  shall  rise 
A  holier  than  the  Caaba  where  men  kiss 
The  sacred  stone  that  flaming  fell  from  heaven. 
But  O  how  many  sad  and  broken  hearts 
Will  mourn  the  loved  ones  never  to  return  ! 
Thank  God — no  heart  will  hope  for  my  return  ! 
Thank  God — no  heart  will  mourn  because  I  die  ! 
Captain  ;  at  life's  mid-summer  flush  and  glow 


64  PA  ULINE. 

For  him  to  die  who  leaves  his  golden  hopes, 

His  mourning  friends  and  idol-love  behind, 

It  must  be  hard  and  seem  a  cruel  thing. 

After  the  victory — upon  this  field — 

For  me  to  die  hath  more  of  peace  than  pain  ; 

For  I  shall  leave  no  golden  hopes  behind, 

No  idol-love  to  pine  because  I  die, 

No  friends  to  wait  my  coming  or  to  mourn  ;-  — 

They  wait  my  coming  in  the  world-to-be  : 

And  wait  not  long,  for  I  am  almost  there. 

'Tis  but  a  gasp — and  I  shall  pass  the  bound 

'Twixt  life  and  death, — through  death  to  life  again- 

Elysian  life  eternal.     Pangs  and  pains 

Of  flesh  or  spirit  will  not  pierce  me  there ; 

And  two  will  greet  me  from  the  jasper  walls — 

God's  angels — with  a  song  of  holy  peace, 

And  haste  to  meet  me  at  the  pearly  gate, 

And  kiss  the  death-damp  from  my  silent  lips, 

And  lead  me  through  the  golden  avenues — 

Singing  Hosanna — to  the  Great  White  Throne." 

So  there  he  paused  and  calmly  closed  his  eyes, 
And  silently  I  sat  and  held  his  hand. 


PA  ULINE.  65 

After  a  time,  when  we  were  left  alone, 

He  spoke  again  with  calmer  voice  and  said  : 

"  Captain  ;  you  oft  have  asked  my  history, 

And  I  as  oft  refused.     There  is  no  cause 

Why  I  should  longer  hold  it  from  my  friend 

Who  reads  the  closing  chapter.     It  may  teach 

One  soul  to  lean  upon  the  arm  of  Christ, — 

That  hope  and  happiness  find  anchorage 

Only  in  heaven.     While  my  lonesome  life 

Saw  death  but  dimly  in  the  dull  distance 

My  lips  were  sealed  to  the  unhappy  tale. 

I  was  ambitious  in  my  boyhood  days, 

And  dreamed  of  fame  and  honors — misty  fogs 

That  climb  at  morn  the  rugged  cliff  of  life, 

Veiling  the  ragged  rocks  and  gloomy  chasms, 

And  shaping  airy  castles  on  the  top 

With  bristling  battlements  and  looming  towers, 

But  melt  away  into  ethereal  air 

Beneath  the  blaze  of  the  midsummer  sun, 

Till  all  the  chasms  and  the  ragged  rocks 

Are  bare, — and  all  the  castles  crumbled  away. 


66  PA  ULINE. 

"  There  winds  a  river  'twixt  two  chains  of  hills — 

Fir-capped  and  rugged  monuments  of  time ; 

A  narrow  vale  of  rich  alluvial  land, 

Washed  from  the  slopes  through  circling  centuries, 

And  sweet  with  clover  and  the  hum  of  bees, 

Lies  fair  between  the  rugged,  somber  hills. 

Beneath  a  shade  of  willows  and  of  elms 

The  river  slumbers  in  this  meadowy  lap. 

Down  from  the  right  there  winds  a  babbling  branch, 

Cleaving  a  narrower  valley  through  the  hills, 

And  blends  its  waters  with  the  greater  stream 

Around  an  island  clad  with  clambering  vines. 

A  grand  bald-headed  hill-cone  on  the  right 

Looms  like  a  patriarch,  and  above  the  branch 

There  towers  another.     I  have  seen  the  day 

When  those  bald-heads  were  plumed  with  lofty  pines. 

Below  the  branch  and  near  the  river-bank, 

Hidden  among  the  elms  and  butternuts, 

The  dear  old  cottage  stands  where  I  was  born. 

An  English  ivy  clambers  to  the  eaves, 

A  willow  planted  by  my  boyish  hand 

Now  spreads  its  golden  branches  o'er  the  roof. 

Not  far  below  the  cottage  thrives  a  town, 


PA  ULINE.  67 

A  busy  town  of  mills  and  merchandise — 

Franccsca, — thriftiest  village  of  the  vale. 

Behind  it  looms  the  hill-cone,  and  in  front 

The  peaceful  river  tumbles  o'er  a  dam. 

Beyond  the  river  spreads  a  level  plain — 

Once  hid  with  somber  firs — a  tangled  marsh, — 

Now  beautiful  with  field  and  cottages, 

And  sweet  in  spring-time  with  the  blooming  plum, 

And  white  with  apple-blossoms  blown  like  snow. 

Beyond  the  plain  a  lower  chain  of  hills, 

In  summer  gemmed  with  fields  of  golden  -grain 

Set  in  the  emerald  of  the  beechen  woods. 

In  other  days  the  village  school-house  stood 

Below  our  cottage  on  a  grassy  mound 

That  sloped  away  unto  the  river's  marge ; 

And  on  the  slope  a  cluster  of  tall  pines 

Crowning  a  copse  of  beech  and  evergreen. 

There  in  my  boyhood  days  I  went  to  school ; 

A  maiden  mistress  ruled  the  little  realm ; 

She  taught  the  rudiments  to  rompish  rogues, 

And  walked  a  queen  with  magic  wand  of  birch. 

My  years  were  hardly  ten  when  father  died. 

Sole  tenants  of  our  humble  cottage  home 


68  PA  ULINE. 

My  sorrowing  mother  and  myself  remained. 
But  she  was  all  economy,  and  kept 
With  my  poor  aid  a  comfortable  house. 
I  was  her  idol  and  she  wrought  at  night 
To  keep  me  at  my  books,  and  used  to  boast 
That  I  should  rise  above  our  humble  lot. 
How  oft  I  listened  to  her  hopeful  words — 
Poured  from  the  fountain  of  a  mother's  heart, — 
Until  I  longed  to  wing  the  sluggard  years 
That  bore  me  on  to  what  I  hoped  to  be. 

"  We  had  a  garden  plat  behind  the  house, — 
Beyond, — an  orchard  and  a  pasture-lot ; 
In  front  a  narrow  meadow — here  and  there 
Shaded  with  elms  and  branching  butternuts. 
In  spring  and  summer  in  the  garden-plat 
I  wrought  my  morning  and  my  evening  hours, 
And  kept  myself  at  school — no  idle  boy. 

"  One  morning  in  the  sultry  summer  days 
There  came  to  school  a  stranger  queenly  fair, 
With  eyes  that  shamed  the  ethereal  blue  of  heaven, 


PAULINE,  69 

And  golden  hair  in  ringlets, — cheeks  as  soft, 

As  fresh  and  rosy  as  the  vermil-blush 

Of  summer-sunrise  on  the  dew-damp  hills. 

Hers  was  the  name  I  muttered  in  my  dreams. 

For  days  my  bashful  heart  kept  me  aloof, 

Although  her  senior  by  a  single  year; 

But  we  were  brought  together  oft  in  class, 

And  when  she  learned  my  name  she  spoke  to  me, 

And  then  my  tongue  was  loosed  and  we  were  friends. 

Before  the  advent  of  the  iron-horse 

Her  sire — a  shrewd  and  calculating  man — 

Had  lately  come  and  purchased  timbered-lands 

And  idle  mills  and  made  the  town  his  home. 

And  he  was  well-to-do  and  growing  rich, 

And  she  her  father's  pet  and  only  child. 

In  mind  and  stature  for  two  happy  years 

We  grew  together  at  the  village  school. 

We  grew  together  ! — aye,  our  fresh  young  hearts 

There  grew  together  till  they  beat  as  one. 

Her  tasks  were  mine,  and  mine  alike  were  hers ; 

We  often  stole  away  among  the  pines — 

That  stately  cluster  on  the  sloping  hill — 

And  conned  our  lessons  from  the  selfsame  book, 


70  PA  ULINE. 

And  learned  to  love  each  other  o'er  our  tasks, 

While  in  the  pine-tops  piped  the  oriole, 

And  from  his  beech  the  chattering  squirrel  chid 

Our  guileless  love  and  artless  innocence. 

'Twas  childish  love  perhaps,  but  day  by  day 

It  grew  into  our  souls  as  we  grew  up. 

Then  there  was  opened  in  the  prospering  town 

A  higher  school,  and  thither  went  Pauline. 

I  missed  her  and  was  sad  for  many  a  day, 

Till  mother  gave  me  leave  to  follow  her. 

In  autumn — in  vacation — she  would  come 

With  girlish  pretence  to  our  cottage  home. 

She  often  brought  my  mother  little  gifts, 

And  cheered  her  with  sweet  songs  and  happy  words  ; 

And  I  would  pluck  the  fairest  meadow-flowers 

To  grace  the  golden  ringlets  of  her  hair, 

And  fill  her  basket  from  the  butternuts 

That  flourished  in  our  little  meadow-field. 

I  found  in  her  all  I  had  dreamed  of   Heaven. 

So  garlanded  with  latest-blooming  flowers, 

Chanting  the  mellow  music  of  our  hopes, 

The  silver-sandaled  Autumn-hours  tripped  by  ; 

And  mother  learned  to  love  her;  but  she  feared, 


PA  ULINE.  7  I 

Knowing  her  heart  and  mine,  that  one  rude  hand 
Might  break  our  hopes  asunder.     Like  a  thief 
I  often  crept  about  her  father's  house, 
Under  the  evening  shadows  eager-eyed, 
Peering  for  one  dear  face,  and  lingered  late 
To  catch  the  silver  music  of  one  voice 
That  from  her  chamber  nightly  rose  to  heaven. 
Her  father's  face  I  feared,— a  silent  man, 
Cold-faced,  imperative,  by  nature  prone 
To  set  his  will  against  the  beating  world  ; 
Warm-hearted  but  heart-crusted. 

"  Two  years  more 

Thus  wore  away.     Pauline  grew  up  a  queen. 
A  shadow  fell  across  my  sunny  path  ; — 
A  hectic  flush  burned  on  my  mother's  cheeks ; 
She  daily  failed  and  nearer  drew  to  death. 
Pauline  would  often  come  with  sun-lit  face, 
And  cheat  the  day  of  half  its  languid  hours 
With  cheering  chapters  from  the  holy  book, 
Historic  tales  and  sacred  songs  of  old ; 
And  mother  loved  her  all  the  better  for  it. 
With   feeble  hands  upon  our  sad-bowed  heads, 


72  PAULINE. 

And  in  a  voice  all  tremulous  with  tears, 
She  said  to  us:  '  Dear  children,  love  each  other,- 
Bear  and  forbear,  and  come  to  me  in  Heaven ;' 
And  praying  for  us  daily — drooped  and_died. 


"  After  the  sad  and  solemn  funeral, 

Alone  and  weeping  and  disconsolate, 

I  sat  at  evening  by  the  cottage  door. 

I  felt  as  if  a  dark  and  bitter  fate 

Had  fallen  on  me  in  my  tender  years. 

I  seemed  an  aimless  wanderer  doomed  to  grope 

In  vain  among  the  darkling  years  and  die. 

One  only  star  shone  through  the  shadowy  mists. 

The  moon  that  wandered  in  the  gloomy  heavens 

Was  robed  in  shrouds ;    the  rugged,  looming  hills 

Looked  desolate ; — the  silent  river  seemed 

A  somber  chasm,  while  my  own  pet  lamb, 

Mourning  disconsolate  among  the  trees, 

As  if  he  followed  some  dim  phantom-form, 

Bleated  in  vain  and  would  not  heed  my  call. 

On  weary  hands  I  bent  my  weary  head, 

And  lost  myself  in  sad  and  bitter  dreams. 


PA  ULINE.  73 

"  An  angel's  hand  was  laid  upon  my  head, — 
There  in  the  moonlight  stood  my  own  Pauline — 
Angel  of  love  and  hope  and  holy  faith — 
She  flashed  upon  my  dreamy  reverie 
As  falls  the  meteor  down  the  night-clad  heavens — 
In  silence.     Then  about  my  neck  she  clasped 
Her  loving  arms  and  on  my  shoulder  laid 
Her  golden  tresses,  while  her  silent  tears 
Fell  warm  upon  my  cheek  like  summer  rain. 
Heart  clasped  to  heart  and  cheek  to  cheek  we  sat ; 
The  moon  no  longer  gloomed, — her  face  was  cheer; 
The  rugged  hills  were  old-time  friends  again ; 
The  peaceful  river  slept  beneath  the  moon, 
And  my  pet  lamb  came  bounding  to  our  side 
And  kissed  her  hand  and  mine  as  he  was  wont. 
Then  I  awoke  as  from  a  dream  and  said : 
'  Tell  me,  beloved,  why  you  come  to  me 
In  this  dark  hour — so  late — so  desolate?' 
And  she  replied : 


"  '  My  darling,  can  I  rest 
While  you  are  full  of  sorrow  ?     In  my  ear 


74  PA  ULINE. 

A  spirit  seemed  to  say — '  Arise  and  go 

To  comfort  him  disconsolate.'     Tell  me,  Paul, 

Why  should  you  mourn  your  tender  life  away  ? 

I  will  be  mother  to  you  ;    nay,  dear  boy, 

I  will  be  more.     Come  brush  away  these  tears.' 

"  My  heart  was  full ;  I  kissed  her  anxious  face : 

'  You  are  an  angel  sent  by  one  in  Heaven,' 

I  said,  '  to  heal  my  heart,  but  I  have  lost 

More  than  you  know.     The  cruel  hand  of  death 

Hath  left  me  orphan,  friendless, — poor  indeed, 

Saving  the  precious  jewel  of  your  love. 

And  what  to  do ;   I  know  not  what  to  do, 

I  feel  so  broken  by  a  heavy  hand. 

My  mother  hoped  that  I  would  work  my  way 

To  competence  and  honor  at  the  bar. 

But  shall  I  toil  in  poverty  for  years 

To  learn  a  science  that  so  seldom  yields 

Or  wealth  or  honor  save  to  silvered  heads  ? 

I  know  this  path  to  fame  and  fortune  leads 

Through  thorny  brambles  over  ragged  rocks ; 

But  can  I  follow  in  the  common  path 

Trod  by  the  millions,  never  to  lift  my  head 


PAULINE.  75 

Above  the  busy  hordes  that  delve  and  drudge 
For  bare  existence  in  this  bitter  world, — 
And  be  a  mite, — a  midge, — a  worthless  worm, 
No  more  distinguished  from  the  common  mass 
Than  one  poor  polyp  in  the  coral  isle 
Is  marked  amid  the  myriads  teeming  there? 
Yet  'tis  not  for  myself.     For  you,  Pauline, 
Upon  the  slippery  heights  of  wealth  and  fame 
Would  I  climb  bravely,  but  if  I  would  climb 
By  any  art  or  science,  I  must  train 
Unto  the  task  my  feet  for  many  years, 
Else  I  should  slip  and  fall  from  rugged  ways, 
Too  badly  bruised  to  ever  mount  again.' 
Then  she : 


"  '  O  Paul,  if  wealth  were  mine  to  give  ! 
O  if  my  father  could  but  know  my  heart ! 
But  fear  not,  Paul,  our  Father  reigns  in  Heaven. 
Follow  your  bent — 'twill  lead  you  out  aright ; 
The  highest  mountain  lessens  as  we  climb ; 
Persistent  courage  wins  the  smile  of  fate. 
Apply  yourself  to  law  and  master  it, 


7  6  PAULINE. 

And  I  will  wait.     This  sad  and  solemn  hour 
Is  dark  with  doubt  and  gloom,  but  by  and  by 
The  clouds  will  lift  and  you  will  see  God's  face. 
For  there  is  one  in  Heaven  whose   pleading  tongue 
Will  pray  for  blessings  on  her  only  son 
Of  Him  who  heeds  the  little  sparrow's  fall  ; — 
And  O  if  He  will  listen  to  my  prayers, 
The  gates  of  Heaven  shall  echo  to  my  voice 
Morning  and  evening, — only  keep  your  heart.' 
I  said : 


"  Pauline,  your  prayers  had  rolled  away 
The  solid  stone  that  close  the  tomb  of  Christ  ; 
And  while  they  rise  to  heaven  for  my  success 
I  cannot  doubt,  or  I  should  doubt  my  God. 
I  think  I  see  a  pathway  through  this  gloom  ; 
I  have  a  kinsman — and  I  told  her  where, — 
A  lawyer ;  I  have  heard  my  mother  say — 
A  self-made  man  with  charitable  heart  ; 
And  I  might  go  and  study  under  him  ; 
I  think  he  would  assist  me.' 


PA  ULINE.  7  7 

"  Then  she  sighed  : 

'  Paul,  can  you  leave  me?  You  may  study  here  ; 
And  here  you  are  among  your  boyhood  friends, 
And  here  I  should  be  near  to  cheer  you  on.' 


"  I  promised  her  that  I  would  think  of  it, — 
Would  see  what  prospect  offered  in  the  town  ; 
And  then  we  walked  together  half-embraced, 
But  when  we  neared  her  vine-arched  garden  gate, 
She  bade  me  stay  and  kissed  me  a  good-night, 
And  bounded  through  the  moonlight  like  a  fawn. 
I  watched  her  till  she  flitted  from  my  sight, 
Then  slowly  homeward  turned  my  lingering  steps. 
I  wrote  my  kinsman  on  the  morrow  morn, 
And  broached  my  project  to  a  worthy  man 
Who  kept  an  office  and  a  case  of  books — 
An  honest  lawyer.     People  called  him  learn'd, 
But  wanting  tact  and  ready  speech  he  failed. 
The  rest  were  pettifoggers, — scurrilous  rogues 
Who  plied  the  village  justice  with  their  lies, 
And  garbled  law  to  suit  the  case  in  hand  ; — 
Mean,  querulous,  small-brained  delvers  in  the  mire 


7  3  PAULINE. 

Of  men's  misfortunes — crafty,  cunning  knaves, 

Bearing  the  title  '  Counsellor]  that  schemed 

To  keep  the  evil  natures  of  bad  men 

In  petty  wars,  and  plied  their  tongues  profane 

With  cunning  words  to  argue  honest  fools 

Into  their  silken  meshes  to  be  fleeced. 

I  laid  my  case  before  him  ;  took  advice — 

Well-meant  advice — to  leave  my  native  town 

And  study  with  my  kinsman  whom  he  knew. 

A  week  rolled  round  and  brought  me  a  reply — 

A  frank  and  kindly  letter — giving  me 

That  which  I  needed  most — encouragement. 

But  hard  it  was  to  fix  my  mind  to  go  ; 

For  in  my  heart  an  angel  whispered  '  stay.' 

It  might  be  better  for  my  after  years, 

And  yet  perhaps,  'twere  better  to  remain. 

I  balanced  betwixt  my  reason  and  my  heart, 

And  hesitated.     Her  I  had  not  seen 

Since  that  sad  night,  and  so  I  made  resolve 

That  we  should  meet  and  at  her  father's  house. 

I  whispered  courage  to  my  boyish  heart 

And  went.     With  happy  greetings  at  the  door 

She  met  me,  but  she  looked  so  wan,  so  pale, 


PAULINE.  79 

So  worn  with  care  I  feared  that  she  was  ill. 
I  read  the  letter  to  her,  and  she  sighed, 
And  sat  in  silence  for  a  little  time, 
Then  said  : 


"  '  God  bless  yQu,  Paul,  may  be  'tis  best, — 
I  sometimes  feel  it  is  not  for  the  best, 
But  I  am  selfish — thinking  of  myself. 
Go  like  a  man,  but  keep  your  boyish  heart, — 
Your  boyish  heart  is  all  the  world  to  me. 
Remember,  Paul,  how  I  shall  watch  and  wait ; 
O  write  me  often  ;  like  the  dew  of  heaven 

* 

To  withering  flowers  will  come  your  cheering  words. 
To  know  that  you  are  well  and  happy,  Paul, 
And  good  and  true,  will  wing  the  weary  days. 
And  let  me  beg  you  as  a  sister  would, — 
Not  that  I  doubt  you,  but  because  I  love, — 
Beware  of  wine, — touch  not  the  treacherous  cup, 
And  guard  your  honor  as  you  guard  your  life. 
The  years  will  glide  away  like  scudding  clouds 
That  fleetly  chase  each  other  o'er  the  hills, 
And  you  will  be  a  man  before  you  know, 


8o  PA  ULINE. 

And  I  shall  be  a  woman.     God  will  crown 
Our  dearest  hopes  if  we  but  trust  in  Him.' 


"  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  little  time, 
And  she  was  weeping,  so  I  raised  her  face 
And  kissed  away  her  tears.     She  softly  said: 
'  Paul,  there  is  something  I  must  say  to  you, — 
Something  I  have  no  time  to  tell  you  now  ; 
But  we  must  meet  again  before  you  go — 
Beneath  the  pines  where  we  so  oft  have  met. 
Be  this  the  sign,' — (She  waved  her  graceful  hand) 
'  Come  when  the  weary  world  has  gone  to  rest 
And  silent  stars  stand  sentinel  in  heaven  ; 
Now  Paul,  forgive  me, — I  must  go, — good-bye.' 


"  I  read  her  fear  upon  her  anxious  brow, 
But  clasped  her  in  my  arms  with  fond  embrace, 
And  gazed  into  the  depths  of  her  blue  eyes. 
Just  then  her  frowning  father  blustered  in, 
And  caught  us  blushing  in  each  others  arms. 
He  stood  a  moment  silent  and  amazed  : 


PAULINE.  8 1 

Then  kindling  wrath  distorted  all  his  face, 
He  showered  his  anger  with  a  tongue  of  fire. 
O  cruel  words  that  stung  my  boyish  pride ! 

0  barbed  words  that  pierced  my  very  soul ! 

1  strove,  but  fury  mastered, — up  I  leaped, 
And  felt  a  giant  as  I  stood  before  him. 

My  breath  was  hot  with  anger  ; — impious  boy, — 
Frenzied, — forgetful  of  his  silvered  hairs, — 
Forgetful  of  her  presence,  too,  I  raved, 
And  poured  a  madman's  curses  on  his  head. 
A  moan  of  anguish  brought  me  to  myself, 
And,  as  I  turned  and  saw  her  saddened  face. 
Tears  quenched  the  raging  fury  in  my  heart. 
I  kissed  her  hand  and  passed  into  the  hall, 
While  she  stood  sobbing  in  a  flood  of  tears, 
And  he  stood  choked  with  anger  and  amazed. 
Then  as  I  passed  the  outer  door  he  came 
With  bated  breath  and  muttered  in  my  ear — 
'  Beggar  /' — It  stung  me  like  a  serpent's  fang. 
Pride-pricked  and  muttering  like  a  maniac, 
I  almost  flew  the  street  and  hurried  home 
To  vent  my  anger  to  the  silent  elms. 
'  Beggar  !  ' — an  hundred  times  that  frenzied  night 


82  PAULINE. 

I  muttered  with  hot  lips  and  burning  breath  ; 
I  paced  the  walk  with  hurried  tread  and  raved ; 
I  threw  myself  beneath  the  willow-tree, 
And  muttered  like  the  muttering  of  a  storm. 
My  little  lamb  came  bleating  mournfully ; 
Angered  I  struck  him  ; — out  among  the  trees 
I  wandered  mumbling  '  beggar'  as  I  went, 
And  beating  in  through  all  my  burning  soul 
The  bitter  thoughts  it  conjured,  till  my  brain 
Reeled  and  I  sunk  upon  the  dew-damp  grass, 
And — utterly  exhausted — slept  till  morn. 


"  I  dreamed  a  dream — all  myth  and  mystery. 

I  saw  a  sunlit  valley  beautiful 

With  purple  vineyards  and  with  garden-plats  ; 

And  in  the  vineyards  and  the  garden  -plats 

Were  happy-hearted  youths  and  merry  girls 

Toiling  and  singing.     Grandsires  too  were  there, 

Sitting  contented  under  their  own  vines 

And  fig-trees,  while  about  them  merrily  played 

Their  children's  children  like  the  sportive  lambs 

That  frolicked  on  the  foot-hills.     Low  of  kine, 


PA  ULINE.  83 

Full-uddered,  homeward-wending  from  the  meads, 
Fell  on  the  ear  as  soft  as  Hulder's  loor 
Tuned  on  the  Norse-land  mountains.     Like  a  nest 
Hid  in  a  hawthorn-hedge  a  cottage  stood 
Embowered    with   vines   beneath    broad-branching 

elms 
Sweet-voiced  with  busy  bees. 


"  On  either  hand 

Rose  steep  and  barren  mountains — mighty  cliffs 
Cragged  and  chasm'd  and  over-grown  with  thorns ; 
And  on  the  topmost  peak  a  golden  throne 
Blazoned  with  burning  characters  which  read — 
'  Climb  ! — it  is  yours'     Not  far  above  the  vale 
I  saw  a  youth  fair-browed  and  raven-haired 
Clambering  among  the  thorns  and  ragged  rocks  ; 
And  from  his  brow  with  torn  and  bleeding  hand 
He  wiped  great  drops  of  sweat.     Down  through  the 

vale 

I  saw  a  rapid  river,  broad  and  deep, 
Winding  in  solemn  silence  to  the  sea, — 
The  sea  all  mist  and  fog.     Lo,  as  I  stood 


84  PA  ULINE. 

Viewing  the  river  and  the  moaning  sea, 

A  sail — and  then  another — flitted  down 

And  plunged  into  the  mist.     A  moment  more, 

Like  shapeless  shadows  of  the  by-gone  years, 

I  saw  them  in  the  mist  and  they  were  gone, — 

Gone, — and  the  sea  moaned  on  and  seemed  to  say — 

'  Gone — and  forever  /' — So  I  gladly  turned 

To  look  upon  the  throne — the  blazoned  throne 

That  sat  upon  the  everlasting  cliff. 

The  throne  had  vanished! — Lo,  where  it  had  stood, 

A  bed  of  ashes  and  a  gray-haired  man 

Sitting  upon  it  bowed  and  broken  down. 

And  so  the  vision  passed. 


"  The  rising  sun 

Beamed  full  upon  my  face  and  wakened  me, 
And  there  beside  me  lay  my  pet — the  lamb — 
Gazing  upon  me  with  wondrous  eyes, 
And  all  the  fields  were  bright  and  beautiful, 
And  brighter  seemed  the  world.     I  rose  resolved. 
I  let  the  cottage  and  disposed  of  all ; 
The  lamb  went  bleating  to  a  neighbor's  field  ; 


PA  ULINE.  85 

And  oft  my  heart  ached,  but  I  mastered  it. 
This  was  the  constant  burden  of  my  brain, — 
'  Beggar  /' — I'll  teach  him  that  I  am  a  man  ; 
I'll  speak  and  he  shall  listen  ;  I  will  rise, 
And  he  shall  see  my  course  as  I  go  up 
Round  after  round  the  ladder  of  success. 
Even  as  the  pine  upon  the  mountain-top 
Towers  o'er  the  maple  on  the  mountain-side, 
I'll  tower  above  him.     Then  will  I  look  down 
And  call  him  FatJicr  ; — He  shall  call  me  Son. 


"  Thus  hushing  my  sad  heart  the  day  drew  nigh 
Of  parting  and  the  promised  sign  was  given. 
The  night  was  dismal  darkness, — not  one  star 
Twinkled  in  heaven  ;  the  sad,  low-moaning  wind 
Played  like  a  mournful  harp  among  the  pines. 
I  groped  and  listened  through  the  darkling  grove, 
Peering  with  eager  eyes  among  the  trees, 
And  calling  as  I  peered  with  anxious  voice 
One  darling  name.     No  answer  but  the  moan  ' 
Of  the  wind-shaken  pines.    I  sat  me  down 
Under  the  dusky  shadows  waiting  for  her, 


86  PA  ULINE. 

And  lost  myself  in  gloomy  reverie. 

Dim  in  the  darkling  shadows  of  the  night, 

While  thus  I  dreamed,  my  darling  came  and  crept 

Beneath  the  boughs  as  softly  as  a  hare, 

And  whispered  '  Paul ' — and  I  was  at  her  side. 

We  sat  upon  a  mound  moss-carpeted, — 

No  eyes  but  God's  upon  us,  and  no  voice 

Spake  to  us  save  the  moaning  of  the  pines. 

Few  were  the  words  we  spoke  ;  our  silent  tears, 

Our  trembling,  lingering,  mutual  embrace, 

Were  more  than  words.     Into  one  anxious  hour, 

Were  pressed  the  hopes  and  bitter  dread  of  years. 

Two  trusting  hearts  that  only  dared  to  hope 

There  swelled  and  throbbed  to  the  electric  touch 

Of  love  as  holy  as  the  love  of  Christ. 

She  gave  her  picture  and  I  gave  a  ring — 

My  mother's, — almost  with  her  latest  breath 

She  gave  it  me  and  breathed  my  darling's  name. 

I  girt  her  finger,  and  she  kissed  the  ring 

In  solemn  pledge,  and  said : 

"  '  I  bring  a  gift — 
The  priceless  gift  of  God  to  sorrowing  souls: 


PA  ULINE, 

O  may  it  prove  a  precious  gift  to  you, 
As  it  has  proved  a  precious  gift  to  me  ; 
And  promise  me  to  read  it  day  by  day, 
Beginning  on  the  morrow — every  day 
A  chapter  and  I  too  will  read  the  same.' 


"  I  took  the  gift — a  precious  gift  indeed,— 
And  you  may  see  how  I  have  treasured  it. 
Here,  Captain,  put  your  hand  upon  my  breast, — 
An  inner  pocket, — you  will  find  it  there. 


I  opened  the  bloody  blouse  and  thence  drew  forth 

The  Book  of  Christ  all  stained  with  Christian  blood. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  holy  book, 

And  closed  his  eyes  as  if  in  silent  prayer. 

I  held  his  weary  head  and  bade  him  rest. 

He  lay  a  moment  silent  and  resumed  : 

"  Let  me  go  on  if  you  would  hear  the  tale  ; 

I  soon  shall  sleep  to  wake  and  speak  no  more. 

O  there  were  promises  and  vows  as  solemn 

As  Christ's  own  promises ;  but  as  we  sat 


88  PA  ULINE. 

The  pattering  rain-drops  fell  among  the  pines, 
And  in  the  branches  the  foreboding  owl 
With  dismal  hooting  hailed  the  coming  storm. 
So  in  that  dreary  hour  and  desolate 
We  parted  in  the  silence  of  our  tears. 


"  And  on  the  morrow  morn  I  bade  adieu 

To  the  old  cottage  home  I  loved  so  well. 

Then  from  my  mother's  grave  I  plucked  a  rose 

Bursting  in  bloom, — Pauline  had  planted  it, — 

And  left  my  little  hill-girt  boyhood  world. 

I  journeyed  eastward  to  my  journey's  end  ; 

At  first  by  rail  for  many  a  flying  mile, 

By  mail-coach  thence  from  where  the  hurrying  train 

Leaps  o'er  a  river  that  goes  tumbling  on 

Between  a  village  and  a  mountain-ledge, 

Chafing  its  rocky  banks.     There  seeths  and  foams 

The  restless  river  round  the  roaring  rocks,' 

And  then  flows  on  a  little  way  and  pours 

Its  laughing  waters  into  a  bridal  lap. 

Its  flood  is  fountain-fed  among  the  hills ; 

Far  up  the  mossy  brooks  the  timid  trout 


PA  ULINE.  89 

Lie  in  the  shadows  of  vine-tangled  elms. 

Out  from  the  village-green  the  roadway  leads 

Along  the  river  up  between  the  hills, 

Then  climbs  a  wooded  mountain  to  its  top, 

And  gently  winds  adown  the  farther  side 

Unto  a  valley  where  the  bridal  stream 

Flows  rippling,  meadow-flower-and-willow-fringed, 

And  dancing  onward  with  a  merry  song, 

Hastes  to  the  nuptials.     From  the  mountain-top — 

A  thousand  feet  above  the  meadowy  vale — 

She  seems  a  chain  of  fretted  silver  wound 

With  artless  art  among  the  emerald  hills. 

Thence  up  a  winding  valley  of  grand  views, — 

Hill-guarded, — firs  and  rocks  upon  the  hills, 

And  here  and  there  a  solitary  pine, 

Majestic — silent — mourns  its  slaughtered  kin, 

Like  the  last  warrior  of  some  tawny  tribe 

Returned  from  sun-set  mountains  to  behold 

Once  more  the  spot  where  his  brave  kindred  sleep 

The  farms  along  the  valley  stretch  away 

On  either  hand  upon  the  rugged  hills — • 

Walled  into  fields.     Tall  elms  and  willow-trees, 

Huge-trunked  and  ivy-hung  stand  sentinel 


9o  PA  ULINE. 

Along  the  roadway  walls, — storm-wrinkled  trees 

Planted  by  men  who  slumber  on  the  hills. 

Amid  such  scenes  all  day  we  rolled  along, 

And  as  the  shadows  of  the  western  hills 

Across  the  valley  crept  and  climbed  the  slopes 

The  sun-set  blazed  their  hazy  tops  and  fell 

Upon  the  emerald  like  a  mist  of  gold. 

And  at  that  hour  I  reached  my  journey's  end. 

The  village  is  a  gem  among  the  hills — 

Tall,  towering  hills  that  reach  into  the  blue. 

One  grand  old  mountain-cone  looms  on  the  left 

Far  up  toward  heaven,  and  all  around  are  hills. 

The  river  winds  among  the  leafy  hills 

Adown  the  meadowy  dale ;  a  shade  of  elms 

And  willows  fringe  it.     In  this  lap  of  hills 

Cluster  the  happy  homes  of  men  content 

To  let  the  great  world  bustle  as  it  will. 

The  court-honse  park,  the  broad,  delightful  streets 

Are  avenues  of  maples  and  of  elms — 

Grander  than  Tadmor's  pillared  avenue 

Through  which  the  proud  Zenobia's  legions  poured 

To  meet  the  Romans  on  the  desert-plain. 

Beautiful  villas,  tidy  cottages, 


PAULINE.  91 


Flower-gardens,  fountains,  offices  and  shops 
All  nestle  in  a  dreamy  wealth  of  woods. 


"  Kind  hearts  received  me.     All  that  wealth  could 

bring — 

Refinement,  luxury  and  ease — was  theirs ; 
But  I  was  proud  and  felt  my  poverty, 
And  gladly  mured  myself  among  the  books 
To  master  '  the  lawless  science  of  law/ 
I  waded  through  the  dry  and  heavy  tomes — 
Some  musty  with  the  mildew  of  old  age ; 
And  these  I  found  the  better  for  their  years, 
Like  olden  wine  from  cobweb-covered  casks. 
The  blush  of  sunrise  found  me  at  my  books; 
The  midnight  cock-crow  caught  me  reading  still ; 
And  oft  my  worthy  master  censured  me; 
'  A  time  for  work,'  he  said,  '  a  time  for  play ; 
Unbend  the  bow  or  else  the  bow  will  break.' 
But  when  I  wearied — needing  sleep  and  rest — 
A  single  word  seemed  whispered  in  my  ear — 
'  Beggarl  it  stung  me  to  re-doubled  toil. 
I  trode  the  oft-times  mazy  labyrinths 


92  PAULINE. 

Of  legal  logic, — mined  the  mountain-mass 

Of  precedents  conflicting, — found  the  rule, 

Then  branched  into  the  exceptions  ;    split  the  hair 

Betwixt  this  case  and  that, — ran  parallels, — 

Traced  from  a  '  leading  case'  through  many  tomes 

Back  to  the  first  decision  on  the  '  point,' 

And  often  found  a  pyramid  of  law 

Built  with  bad  logic  on  a  broken  base 

Of  careless  '  dicta  ;  ' — saw  how  narrow  minds 

Spun  out  the  web  of  technicalities 

Till  common  sense  and  common  equity 

Were  smothered  in  its  meshes.  •  Here  and  there 

I  came  upon  a  broad,  unfettered  mind 

Like  Murray's — cleaving  through  the  spider-webs 

Of  shallower  brains,  and  bravely  pushing  out 

Upon  the  open  sea  of  common  sense. 

But  such  were  rare.     The  olden  precedents — 

Oft  stepping-stones  of  tyranny  and  wrong — 

Marked  easy  paths  to  follow,  and  they  ruled 

The  course  of  reason  as  the  iron  rails 

Rule  the  swift  wheels  of  the  down-thundering  train. 


PA  ULINE.  93 

"  I  rose  at  dawn.     First  in  this  holy  book 

I  read  my  chapter.     How  the  happy  thought 

That  my  Pauline  would  read — the  self-same  morn— 

The  self-same  chapter  gave  the  sacred  text, 

Though  I  had  heard  my  mother  read  it  oft, 

New  light  and  import  never  seen  before. 

For  I  would  ponder  over  every  verse, 

Because  I  felt  that  she  was  reading  it, 

And  when  I  came  upon  dear  promises 

Of  Christ  to  man,  I  read  them  o'er  and  o'er, 

Till  in  a  holy  and  mysterious  way 

They  seemed  the  whisperings  of  Pauline  to  me. 

Later  I  learned  to  lay  up  for  myself 

'  Treasures  in  heaven  where  neither  moth  nor  rust 

Corrupteth,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through, 

Nor  steal' — and  where  my  treasures  all  are  laid 

My  heart  is,  and  my  spirit  longs  to  go. 

O  friend,  if  Jesus  was  but  man  of  man, — 

And  if  indeed  his  mighty  miracles 

Were  mythic  tales  of  priestly  followers 

To  chain  the  brute  till  Reason  came  from  Heaven, 

Yet  was  his  mission  unto  man  divine. 

Man's  pity  wounds,  but  Jesus'  pity  heals. 


94  PA  ULINE. 

He  taught  us  love  above  the  low  desires, — 
He  taught  us  hope  beyond  all  earthly  hope,- 
He  taught  us  charity  wherewith  to  build 
From  out  the  broken  walls  of  barbarism, 
The  holy  temple  of  the  perfect  man. 


"  On  every  Sabbath-eve  I  wrote  Pauline. 
Page  after  page  was  burdened  with  my  love, 
My  glowing  hopes  of  golden  days  to  come, 
And  frequent  boast  of  rapid  progress  made. 
With  hungry  heart  and  eager  I  devoured 
Her  letters ;  I  re-read  them  twenty  times. 
At  morning  when  I  laid  the  Gospel  down 
I  read  her  latest  answer,  and  again 
At  midnight  by  my  lamp  I  read  it  o'er, 
And  murmuring  '  God  bless  her,'  fell  asleep 
To  dream  that  I  was  with  her  under  the  pines. 


"  Thus  fled  four  years — four  years  of  patient  toil 
Sweetened  with  love  and  hope,  and  I  had  made 
Swift  progress  in  my  studies.     Master  said 


PA  ULINE.  95 

Another  year  should  bring  me  to  the  bar, — 

No  fledgeling  but  full-feathered  for  the  field. 

And  then  her  letters  ceased.     I  wrote  and  wrote 

Again,  but  still.no  answer.     Day  after  day 

The  tardy  mail-coach  lagged  a  mortal  hour, 

As  I  sat  listening  for  its  welcome  horn ; 

And  when  it  came  I  hastened  from  my  books 

While  hope  and  fear  contended  ;  but,  alas, 

Day  after  day, — no  answer, — back  again 

I  turned  my  footsteps  with  a  weary  sigh. 

It  wore  upon  me  and  I  found  no  rest. 

The  heavy  tomes  grew  dull  and  wearisome, 

And  sometimes  hateful ; — then  I  broke  away 

As  from  a  prison  and  rushed  wildly  out 

Among  the  elms  along  the  river-bank, — 

Baring  my  burning  temples  to  the  breeze, — 

And  drank  the  air  of  heaven  like  sparkling  wine, — 

Conjuring  excuses  for  her; — was  she  ill? 

Perhaps  forbidden.     Had  another  heart 

Come  in  between  us  ? — No,  that  could  not  be  ; 

She  was  all  constancy  and  promise-bound. 

A  month,  which  seemed  to  me  a  laggard  year, 

Thus  wore  away,     At  last  a  letter  came. 


f)6  PA  ULINE. 

With  what  elastic  step  I  hurried  back — 
Back  to  my  private  chamber  and  my  desk  ! 
With  what  delight — what  eager,  trembling  hand— 
The  well  known  seal  that  held  my  hopes  I  broke ! 
Thus  ran  the  letter : 


"  '  Paul  the  time  has  come 
When  we  must  both  forgive  while  we  forget 
Each  other  and  our  artless  early  love. 
Mine  was  a  girlish  fancy.     We  out-grow 
Such  childish  follies  in  our  later  years. 
I  hope  you  will  not  take  it  as  offence, 
But  I  have  pondered  well  and  made  an  end. 
I  cannot  wed  myself  to  want,  and  curse 
My  after-life,  because  a  girlish  freak 
Of  folly  made  a  promise.     So, — farewell.' 


"  My  eyes  were  blind  with  passion  as  I  read. 
I  tore  the  letter  into  bits  and  tramped 
Upon  them,  ground  my  teeth  and  cursed  the  day 
I  met  her  to  be  jilted.     All  that  night 


PAULINE.  97 

My  thoughts  ran  riot.     Round  the  room  I  strode, 
At  times  as  savage  as  a  painted  Sioux ; 
Then  flung  myself  upon  my  couch  in  tears, 
And  wept  in  silence,  and  then  stormed  again.  - 
Beggar  !  ' — it  raised  the  serpent  in  my  breast- 
Mad  pride — bat-blind.     I  seized  her  pictured  face 
And  ground  it  under  my  heel.      With  impious  hand 
I  caught  the  book — the  precious  gift  she  gave, 
And  would  have  burned  it,  but  that  still  small  voice 
Spake  in  my  heart  and  bade  me  spare  the  book. 


"  Then  with  this  Gospel  clutched  in  both  my  hands, 

I  swore  a  solemn  oath  that  I  would  rise, 

If  God  would  spare  me ; — she  should  see  me  rise, 

And  learn  what  she  had  lost. — Yes,  I  would  mount 

Merely  to  be  revenged.     I  would  not  cringe 

Down  like  a  spaniel  underneath  the  lash, 

But  like  a  man  would  teach  my  proud  Pauline 

And  her  hard  father  to  repent  the  day 

They  called  me  '  beggar'     Thus  I  raved  and  stormed 

That  mad  night  out ;— forgot  at  dawn  of  morn 

This  holy  book,  but  fell  to  a  huge  tome 


98  PA  ULINE. 

And  read  two  hundred  pages  in  a  day. 

I  could  not  keep  the  thread  of  argument ; 

I  could  not  hold  my  mind  upon  the  book ; 

I  could  not  break  the  silent  under-tow 

That  swept  all  else  from  out  my  dreamy  brain 

But  false  Pauline.     I  read  from  morn  till  night, 

But  having  closed  the  book  I  could  not  tell 

Aught  of  its  contents.     Then  I  cursed  myself, 

And  muttered — '  Fool, — can  you  not  shake  it  off— 

This  nightmare  of  your  boyhood? — Brave,  indeed, — 

Crushed  like  a  spaniel  by  this  false  Pauline  ! 

Crushed  am  I  ? — By  the  gods,  I'll  make  an  end, 

And  she  shall  never  know  it  nettled  me  ! ' 

So  passed  the  weary  days.     My  cheeks  gretv  thin  ; 

I  needed  rest  I  said,  and  left  my  books 

To  range  the  fields  and  hills  with  fowling-piece 

And  '  mal prepense  against  the  feathery  flocks. 

The. pigeons  flew  from  tree-tops  o'er  my  head  ; 

I  heard  the  flap  of  wings — and  they  were  gone  ; 

The  pheasant  whizzed  from  bushes  at  my  feet 

Unseen  until  its  sudden  whiz  and  whir 

Startled  and  broke  my  wandering  reverie ; 

And  then  I  whistled  and  relapsed  to  dreams, 


PA  ULINE.  99 

Wandering  I  cared  not  whither, — wheresoe'er 
My  silent  gun  still  bore  its  primal  charge. 
So  gameless,  but  with  cheeks  and  forehead  tinged 
By  breeze  and  sun-shine,  I  returned  to  books. 
But  still  a  phantom  haunted  all  my  dreams, — • 
Awake  or  sleeping,  for  awake  I  dreamed, — 
A  spectre  that  I  could  not  chase  away — 
The  phantom-form  of  my  own  false  Pauline. 


"  Six  months  wore  off — six  long  and  weary  months  ; 

Then  came  a  letter  from  a  school-boy  friend,— 

In  answer  to  the  queries  I  had  made, — 

Filled  with  the  gossip  of  my  native  town. 

Unto  her  father's  friend — a  bachelor, 

Her  senior  by  full  twenty  years  at  least — 

Dame  Rumor  said  Pauline  had  pledged  her  hand. 

I  knew  him  well — a  sly  and  cunning  man, — 

A  honey-tongued,  false-hearted  flatterer. 

And  he  my  rival — carrying  off  my  prize  ? 

Ah,  there  were  more  than  seven  wonders  sure  ! 

But  what  cared  I  ?  'twas  all  the  same  to  me, — 

Yea,  better  for  the  sweet  revenge  to  come. 


ioo  PAULINE. 


So  whispered  pride,  but  in  my  secret  heart 
I  cared,  and  hoped  whatever  came  to  pass 
She  might  be  happy  all  her  days  on  earth, 
And  find  a  happy  haven  at  the  end. 


"  My  thoughtful  master  bade  me  quit  my  books 
A  month  at  least,  for  I  was  wearing  out 
Much  faster  than  I  knew.     His  watchful  eye 
Saw  toil  and  care  at  work  upon  my  cheeks, 
And  he  had  seen  law-students  wear  away 
With  over-work  the  vigor  of  their  lives. 
And  so  he  gave  me  means  and  bade  me  go 
To  romp  a  month  among  my  native  hills. 
I  went,  but  not  as  I  had  left  my  home — 
A  bashful  boy,  uncouth  and  coarsely  clad, 
But  clothed  and  mannered  like  a  gentleman. 


"  My  school-boy  friend  gave  me  a  cordial  greeting ; 
That  honest  lawyer  bade  me  welcome,  too, 
And  doted  on  my  progress  and  the  advice 
He  gave  me  ere  I  left  my  native  town. 


PAULINE.  10 1 

Since  first  the  iron-horse  had  coursed  the  vale 

Five  years  had  fled — five  prosperous,  magic  years, 

And  well  nigh  five  since  I  had  left  my  home. 

These  magic  years  had  wrought  upon  the  place 

Their  wonders  till  I  hardly  knew  the  town. 

The  broad  and  stately  blocks  of  brick  that  shamed 

The  weather-beaten  wooden  shops  I  knew 

Seemed  the  creation  of  some  magic  hand. 

Adown  the  river  bank  the  town  had  stretched, 

Sweeping  away  the  quiet  grove  of  pines 

Where  I  had  loved  to  ramble  when  a  boy 

And  see  the  squirrels  leap  from  tree  to  tree 

With  reckless  venture,  hazarding  a  fall 

To  dodge  the  ill-aimed  arrows  from  my  bow. 

The  dear  old  school-house  on  the  hill  was  gone  : 

A  costly  church,  tall-spired  and  built  of  stone, 

Stood  in  its  stead — a  monument  to  man. 

The  stately  pines  had  fallen  by  the  axe, 

And  all  the  slope  was  bare'  and  desolate. 

Old  faces  had  grown  older ;  some  were  gone, 

And  many  unfamiliar  ones  had  come. 

Boys  in  their  teens  had  grown  to  bearded  men, 

And -girls  to  womanhood,  and  all  was  changed, 


102  PAULINE. 

Save  the  old  cottage-home  where  I  was  born. 
The  elms  and  butternuts  in  the  meadow-field 
Still  wore  the  features  of  familiar  friends  ;. 
The  English  ivy  clambered  to  the  roof, 
The  golden  willow  spread  its  branches  still, 
And  as  I  stood  before-  the  cottage-door 
My  heart-pulse  quickened  for  methought  I  heard 
My  mother's  foot-steps  on  the  ashen  floor. 


"  The  rumor  I  had  heard  was  verified  ; 
The  wedding-day  was  named  and  near  at  hand. 
I  saw  my  rival  with  his  smirks  and  smiles — 
Glad  as  a  boy  that  robs  the  robin's  nest — 
Grasping  the  hands  of  half  the  men  he  met. 
Pauline,  I  heard,  but  seldom  ventured  forth  ; 
Of  late  ill  health  her  rosy  cheeks  had  paled. 
To  church  she  went  on  every  sabbath-morn  ; 
On  other  days  she  mured  herself  at  home, 
Save  when  her  doting  father  took  her  out 
Like  some  frail  flower  to  breathe  the  balmy  air. 
And  let  the  sunbeams  kiss  her  fading  cheeks. 
The  smooth-faced  suitor,  old  dame  Gossip  said,- 


PAULINE.  103 

Made  daily  visits  to  her  father's  house, 
And  played  the  boy  at  forty  years  or  more, 
While  she  had  held  him  off  to  draw  him  on. 


"  I  would  not  fawn  upon  the  hand  that  smote, 

I  would  not  cringe  beneath  its  cruel  blow, 

Nor  even  let  her  know  I  cared  for  it. 

I  kept  aloof — as  proud  as  Lucifer ; 

But  when  the  church-bells  chimed  on  Sabbath  morn, 

To  that  proud  monument  of  stone  I  went, — 

Her  father's  pride,  since  he  had  led  the  list 

Of  wealthy  patrons  who  had  builded  it, — 

To  hear  the  sermon, — for  methought  Pauline 

Would  hear  it  too.     Might  I  not  see  her  face, 

And  she  not  know  I  cared  to  look  upon  it  ? 

She  came  not,  and  the  psalms  and  sermon  fell 

Upon  me  like  an  autumn-mist  of  rain. 

I  met  her  once  by  chance  upon  the  street — 

The  day  before  the  appointed  wedding-day— 

Her  and  her  father, — she  upon  his  arm. 

'  Paul — O  Paul !  '  she  said  and  gave  her  hand. 

I  took  it  with  a  cold  and  careless  air, — 


104  PAULINE, 

Begged  pardon, — had  forgotten, — ah — Pauline  ? — 
Yes,  I  remembered  ; — five  long  years  ago, — 
And  I  had  made  so  many  later  friends, 
And  she  had  lost  so  much  of  maiden  bloom  ! 
Then  turning  met  her  father  face  to  face, 
Bowed  with  cold  grace,  and  haughtily  passed  on. 
'  This  is  revenge,'  I  muttered.     Even  then 
My  heart  ached  as  I  thought  of  her  pale  face, 
Her  pleading  eyes,  her  trembling,  clasping  hand  ! 
And  then  and  there  I  would  have  turned  about 
To  beg  her  pardon  and  an  interview, 
But  pride — that  serpent  ever  in  my  heart — 
Hissed  '  beggar?  and  I  cursed  her  with  the  lips 
That  oft  had  poured  my  love  into  her  ears. 
'  She  marries  gold  to-morrow, — let  her  wed  ! 
She  will  not  wed  a  beggar,  but  I  think 
She'll  wed  a  life  long  sorrow, — let  her  wed  ! 
Aye — aye, — I  hope  she'll  curse  the  fatal  day 
Whereon  she  broke  her  sacred  promises. 
And  I  forgive  her? — yea,  but  not  forget. 
I'll  take  good  care  that  she  shall  not  forget ; 
I'll  prick  her  memory  with  a  bitter  thorn 
Through  all  her  future.     Let  her  marry  gold  ! ' 


PAULINE.  105 

Thus  ran  my  muttered  words,  but  in  my  heart 
There  ran  a  counter-current ;  ere  I  slept 
Its  silent  under-tow  had  mastered  all — 
'  Forgive  and  be  forgiven.'     I  resolved 
That  on  the  morning  of  her  wedding-day 
Would  I  go  kindly  and  forgive  Pauline, 
And  send  her  to  the  altar  with  my  blessing. 
That  night  I  read  a  chapter  in  this  book — 
The  first  for  many  months,  and  fell  asleep 
Beseeching  God  to  bless  her. 


"  Then  I  dreamed 

That  we  were  kneeling  at  my  mother's  bed — 
Her  death-bed,  and  the  feeble,  trembling  hands 
Of  her  who  loved  us  rested  on  our  heads, 
And  in  a  voice  all  tremulous  with  tears 
My  mother  said  :    '  Dear  children,  love  each  other  ; 
Bear  and  forbear,  and  come  to  me  in  Heaven.' 


"  I  wakened  once — at  midnight, — a  wild  cry— 

'  Paul,  O  Paul  T  rang  through  my  dreams  and  broke 


106  PAULINE. 

My  slumber.     I  arose,  but  all  was  still, 

And  then  I  slept  again  and  dreamed  till  morn. 

In  all  my  dreams  her  dear,  sweet  face  appeared, — 

Now  radiant  as  a  star,  and  now  all  pale, — 

Now  glad  with  smiles  and  now  all  wet  with  tears. 

Then  came  a  dream  that  agonized  my  soul, 

While  every  limb  was  bound  as  if  in  chains. 

Methought  I  saw  her  in  the  silent  night 

O'er  misty  waters  leaning  dark  and  deep  : 

A  moan, — a  plash  of  waters, — and  O  Christ ! — 

Her  agonized  face  upturned, — imploring  hands 

Stretched  out  toward  me,  and  a  wailing  cry — 

'  Paul,  O  Paul !  '     Then  head  and  hands  went  down 

And  o'er  her  closed  the  deep  and  dismal  flood 

Forever, — but  it  could  not  drown  the  cry  : 

'  Paul,  O  Paul  /'  was  ringing  in  my  ears  ; 

'  Paul,  O  Paul !  '  was  throbbing  in  my  heart  ; 

And  thrilling,  chilling  in  my  shuddering  soul 

Trembled  the  agonized  wailing — '  Paul,  O  Paul !  ' 


"  Then  o'er  the  waters  stole  the  silver  dawn, 
And  lo  a  fairy-boat  with  silken  sail ! 


PAULINE.  107 

And  in  the  boat  an  angel  at  the  helm, 

And  at  her  feet  the  form  of  her  I  loved. 

The  white  mists  parted  as  the  boat  sped  on 

In  silence,  lessening  far  and  far  away. 

And  then  the  sun-rise  glimmered  on  the  sail 

A  moment,  and  the  angel  turned  her  face 

And  beckoned  me  with  outstretched  hand  to  come  ; — 

My  mother  ! — and  I  gave  a  joyful  cry, 

And  stretched  my  hands,  but  lo,  the  hovering  mists 

Closed  in  around  them,  and  the  vision  passed. 


"  The  morning  sun  stole  through  the  window-blinds 

And  fell  upon  my  face  and  wakened  me, 

And  I  lay  musing — thinking  of  Pauline. 

Yes,  she  should  know  the  depths  of  all  my  heart, — 

The  love  I  bore  her  all  those  lonely  years  ; 

The  hope  that  held  me  steadfast  in  my  toil, 

And  feel  the  higher  and  the  holier  love 

Her  precious  gift  had  wakened  in  my  soul. 

Yea,  I  would  bless  her  for  that  precious  giftx — 

I  had  not  known  its  treasures(but  for  her, 

And  O  for  that  would  I  forgive  her  all, 


108  PA  ULINE. 

And  bless  the  hand  that  broke  the  sacred  pledge. 

That  would  be  comfort  to  me  all  my  days, 

And  if  there  came  a  bitter  time  to  her, 

'  Twould  pain  her  less  to  know  that  I  forgave. 

A  hasty  rapping  on  my  chamber-door 

Broke  of  a  sudden  on  my  musing  mood  ; 

In  came  my  school-boy  friend  whose  guest  I  was, 

And  said  : 


"  '  Come,  Paul,  the  town  is  all  ablaze  ! 
A  sad, — a  strange, — a  marvelous  suicide  ! 
Pauline,  who  was  to  be  a  bride  to-day, 
Was  missed  at  dawn  and  ere  the  sunrise  found — 
Traced  by  her  shawl  and  bonnet  on  the  bridge, 
Whence  she  had  thrown  herself  and  made  an  end — ' 


"  And  he  went  on,  but  I  could  hear  no  more  ; 

It  fell  upon  me  like  a  flash  from  heaven. 

As  one  with  sudden  terror  dumb,  I  turned 

And  in  my  pillow  buried  up  my  face. 

Tears  came  at  last,  and  then  my  friend  passed  out 


PAULINE.  109 

In  silence.     O  the  agony  of  that  hour! 
O  doubts  and  fears  and  half-read  mysteries 
That  tore  my  heart  and  tortured  all  my  soul ! 


"  I  arose.     About  the  town  the  wildest  tales 

And  rumors  ran  ;  dame  Gossip  was  agog. 

Some  said  she  had  been  ill  and  lost  her  mind, 

(Such  was  the  tale  her  stricken  father  told) 

Some  whispered  hints,  and  others  shook  their  heads ; 

But  none  could  fathom  the  marvelous  mystery. 

Bearing  a  bitter  anguish  in  my  heart, 

Half-crazed  with  doubts  and  fears,  and  all  at  sea, 

Hour  after  hour  alone,  disconsolate, 

Among  the  scenes  where  we  had  wandered  oft 

I  wandered,  sat  where  towered  the  clustered  pines, 

The  sacred  temple  where  we  learned  to  love 

In  by-gone  days, — the  temple  rent  and  fall'n, — 

Its  sacred  floor  with  wild  weeds  over-grown 

And  bramble-hidden.     O  how  sad, — how  changed  ! 

Yet  chiefly  wanting  one  dear,  blushing  face, 

Which,  in  those  happy  days,  made  every  spot 

Wherever  we  might  wander — hill  or  dale — 


HO  PAULINE. 

Picture  of  peace  and  love  and  happiness. 
So  weary-hearted  I  returned.     My  friend 
Had  brought  for  me  a  letter  with  his  mail. 
I  knew  the  hand  upon  the  envelope, — 
With  throbbing  heart  I  hastened  to  my  room  ; 
With  trembling  hands  I  broke  the  seal  and  read. 
One  sheet  enclosed  another, — one  was  writ 
At  midnight  by  my  loved  and  lost  Pauline. 
Inclosed  within,  a  letter  false  and  forged, 
Signed  with  my  name — such  perfect  counterfeit, 
At  sight  I  would  have  sworn  it  was  my  own. 
And  thus  her  letter  ran : 


" '  Beloved  Paul, 

May  God  forgive  you  as  my  heart  forgives. 
Even  as  a  vine  that  winds  about  an  oak, 
Rot-struck  and  hollow-hearted,  for  support, 
Clasping  the  sapless  branches  as  it  climbs 
With  tender  tendrils  and  undoubting  faith, 
I  leaned  upon  your  troth ;  nay,  all  my  hopes,- 
My  love,  my  life,  my  very  hope  of  Heaven — 
I  staked  upon  your  solemn  promises. 


PAULINE.  Ill 

I  learned  to  love  you  better  than  my  God ; 
My  God  hath  sent  me  bitter  punishment. 

0  broken  pledges  !  what  have  I  to  live 
And  suffer  for?     Half  mad  in  my  distress, 
Yielding  at  last  to  father's  oft  request, 

1  pledged  my  hand  to  one  whose  very  love 
Would  be  a  curse  upon  me  all  my  days. 
To-morrow  is  the  promised  wedding  day  ; 

0  rather  let  to-morrow  never  come  ! 

Come  gladlier,  death,  and  make  an  end  of  all ! 
How  many  weary  days  and  patiently 

1  waited  for  a  letter,  and  at  last 

It  came — a  message  crueler  than  death. 

O  take  it  back  ! — and  if  you  have  a  heart 

Yet  warm  to  pity  her  you  swore  to  love, 

Read  it — and  think  of  those  dear  promises — 

O  sacred  as  the  Saviour's  promises — 

You  whispered  in  my  ear  that  solemn  night 

Beneath  the  pines,  and  kissed  away  my  tears. 

And  know  that  I  forgive,  beloved  Paul : 

Meet  me  in  Heaven.     God  will  not  frown  upon 

The  sin  that  saves  me  from  a  greater  sin, 

And  sends  my  weary  soul  to  Him.     Farewell.'  '' 


112  PAULINE. 

Here  he  broke  down  and  wept.     Unto  his  lips 
I  held  a  flask  of  wine.     He  tasted  it, 
And  closed  his  eyes  in  silence  for  a  time, 
Resuming  thus: 


"  You  see  the  wicked  plot. 
We  both  were  victims  of  a  crafty  scheme 
To  break  our  hearts  asunder.     Forgery 
Had  done  its  work  and  pride  had  aided  it. 
The  forged  letter  was  a  cruel  one — 
Casting  her  off  with  utter  heartlessness, 
And  boasting  of  a  later,  dearer  love, 
And  begging  her  to  burn  the  billets-doux 
A  moon-struck  boy  had  sent  her  ere  he  found 
That  pretty  girls  are  plenty  in  the  world. 


"  Think  you  my  soul  was  roiled  with  anger? — No  ; — 
God's  hand  was  on  my  head.     A  keen  remorse 
Gnawed  at  my  heart.     O  false  and  fatal  pride 
That  blinded  me,  else  I  had  seen  the  plot 
Ere  all  was  lost, — else  I  had  saved  a  life 


PA  ULINE.  I  ] 

To  me  most  precious  of  all  lives  on  earth, — 

Yea,  dearer  then  than  any  soul  in  heaven ! 

False  pride, — the  ruin  of  unnumbered  souls — 

Thou  art  the  serpent  ever  tempting  me  : 

God,  chastening  me,  has  bruised  thy  serpent-head. 

O  faithful  heart  in  silence  suffering, — 

True  unto  death  to  one  she  could  but  count 

A  perjured  villain,  cheated  as  she  was  ! 

Captain,  I  prayed, — 'twas  all  that  I  could  do. 

God  heard  my  prayer ;  and  with  a  solemn  heart, 

Bearing  the  letters  in  my  hand,  I  went 

To  ask  a  favor  of  the  man  who  crushed 

And  cursed  my  life, — to  look  upon  her  face, — 

Only  to  look  on  her  dear  face  once  more. 


"  I  rung  the  bell, — a  servant  bade  me  in. 
I  waited  long.     At  last  the  father  came — 
All  pale  and  suffering.     I  could  see  remorse 
Engraven  on  his  face  ;  as  I  arose 
He  trembled  like  a  culprit  on  the  drop. 
'  O,  Sir,'  he  said,  'whatever  be  your  quest, 
I  pray  you  leave  me  with  my  dead  to-day ; 


1*4  PAULINE. 

I  cannot  look  on  any  living  face 

Till  her  dead  face  is  gone  forevermore, — 

So  bitter  is  my  sorrow.' 

"'Ah!'— I  said, 

'  It  must  be  bitter — mingled  with  remorse  ! ' 
'  Explain,'  he  faltered.     '  Pray  you,  sir,  explain  ! ' 
I  said,  and  thrust  the  letters  in  his  hand. 
And  as  he  sat  in  silence  reading  hers, 
I  saw  the  pangs  of  conscience  on  his  face  ; 
I  saw  him  tremble  like  a  striken  soul ; 
And  then  a  tear-drop  fell  upon  his  hand  ; 
And  there  we  sat  in  silence.     Then  he  groaned 
And  fell  upon  his  knees  and  hid  his  face, 
And  stretched  his  hand  toward  me  wailing  out — 
'  O  Paul ! — O  God  ! — forgive  me ! — it  was  I ! ' 


"  His  anguish  touched  my  heart.     I  took  his  hand, 
And  kneeling  by  him  prayed  a  solemn  prayer — 
'  Father,  forgive  him,  for  he  knew  not  what 
He  did  who  broke  the  bond  that  bound  us  twain. 


PAULINE.  H5 

Let  not  the  dead  face  of  his  darling  child 
With  sad  reproach  break  in  upon  his  dreams, 
But  rather  send  her  happy  spirit  oft 
To  whisper  '  God  is  love — and  all  is  well.' 


"  The  iron  man — all  bowed  and  broken  down — 
Sobbed  like  a  child.     He  laid  his  trembling  hand 
With  many  a  fervent  blessing  on  my  head, 
And,  with  the  crust  all  crumbled  from  his  heart, 
Arose  and  led  me  to  her  silent  couch ; 
And  I  looked  in  upon  my  darling  dead. 
Mine, — O  mine  in  Heaven  forevermore ! 
God's  angel  sweetly  smiling  in  her  sleep  ; 
How  beautiful, — how  radiant  of  Heaven! 
The  ring  I  gave  begirt  her  finger  still ; 
Her  golden  hair  was  wreathed  with  immortelles ; 
The  lips  half-parted  seemed  to  move  in  psalm 
Or  holy  blessing.     As  I  kissed  her  cheeks, 
It  almost  seemed  that  they  would  flush  again 
As  in  those  happy  days  beneath  the  pines ; 
And  as  my  warm  tears  fell  upon  her  face, 
Methought  I  heard  that  dear  familiar  voice, 


H  6  PAULINE. 

So  full  of  love  and  faith  and  calmest  peace, 
So  near  and  yet  so  far  and  far  away, 
So  mortal,  yet  so  spiritual, — like  an  air 
Of  softest  music  on  the  slumbering  bay 
Wafted  on  midnight-wings  to  silent  shores, 
When  myriad  stars  are  twinkling  in  the  sea : 


"  '  Paul,  O  Paul,  forgive  and  be  forgiven  ; 
Earth  is  all  trial ; — there  is  peace  in  Heaven' 


"  Aye,  Captain,  in  that  sad  and  solemn  hour 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  the  arm  of  Christ, 

And  he  hath  led  me  all  the  weary  way 

To  this  last  battle.     I  shall  win  through  Him; 

And  ere  you  hear  the  reveille  again 

Paul  and  Pauline,  amid  the  psalms  of  Heaven, 

Embraced  will  kneel  and  at  the  feet  of  God 

Receive  His  benediction.     Let  me  sleep. 

You  know  the  rest ; — I'm  weary  and  must  sleep. 

An  angel's  bugle-blast  will  waken  me, 

But  not  to  pain,  for  their  is  peace  in  Heaven.' 


PAULINE.  117 

He  slept,  but  not  the  silent  sleep  of  death. 
I  felt  his  fitful  pulse  and  caught  anon 
The  softly-whispered  words  '  Pauline  and  'Peace? 
Anon  he  clutched  with  eager,  nervous  hand, 
And  in  hoarse  whisper  shouted — '  Steady,  men  !  ' 
Then  sunk  again.     Thus  passed  an  hour  or  more 
And  he  awoke,  half-raised  himself  and  said 
With  feeble  voice,  but  eyes  all  lustre-lit: 


"  Captain,  my  craft  is  fleetly  flitting  out 

Into  the  misty  and  eternal  sea 

From  out  whose  waste  no  mortal  craft  returns. 

The  fog  is  closing  round  me  and  the  mist 

Is  damp  and  cold  upon  my  hands  and  face. 

Why  should  I  fear? — the  loved  have  gone  before: 

I  seem  to  hear  the  plash  of  coming  oars  ; 

The  mists  are  lifting  and  the  boat  is  near. 

'Tis  well.     To  die  as  I  am  dying  now — 

A  soldier's  death  amid  the  gladsome  shouts 

Of  victory  for  which  my  puny  hands 

Did  their  full  share,  albeit  it  was  small, 

Was  all  my  late  ambition.     Bring  the  Flag, 


n8  PAULINE. 

And  hold  it  o'er  my  head.     Let  me  die  thus 
Under  the  stars  I've  followed. 


"  Tattered  Flag, 

Emblem  of  Hope  to  all  the  mis-ruled  world, 
Thy  field  of  golden  stars  is  rent  and  red — 
Dyed  in  the  blood  of  brothers  madly  spilled 
By  brother-hands  upon  the  mother-soil. 
O  fatal  Upas  of  the  fabled  Nile, 
Transplanted  hither, — rooted, — multiplied,— 
Watered  with  bitter  tears  and  sending  forth 
Thy  venom-vapors  till  the  land  is  mad, — 
Thy  day  is  done.     A  million  blades  are  swung 
To  lay  thy  jungles  open  to  the  sun; 
A  million  torches  blaze  thy  blasted  boles  ; 
A  million  hands  shall  drag  thy  fibers  out, 
And  feed  the  fires  till  every  root  and  branch 
Lie  in  dead  ashes.     From  the  blackened  soil, 
Enriched  and  moistened  with  fraternal  blood, 
Beside  the  palm  shall  spring  the  olive-tree, 
And  every  breeze  shall  waft  the  happy  songs 
Of  Freedom  crowned  with  olean  fruits  and  flowers. 


PAULINE.  119 

Yea,  Patriot-Flag  of  our  old  patriot-sires, 

Honored, — victorious  on  an  hundred  fields 

Where  side  by  side  for  Freedom's  mother-land 

Her  Southern  sons  and  Northern  fighting  fell, 

And  side  by  side  in  glorious  graves  repose, 

I  see  the  dawn  of  glory  grander  still, — 

When  hand  in  hand  upon  this  battle-field 

The  blue-eyed  maidens  of  the  Mertimac 

With  dewy  roses  from  the  Granite  Hills, 

And  dark-eyed  daughters  from  the  land  of  Palms 

With  orange-blossoms  from  the  broad  St.  Johns, 

In  solemn  concert  singing  as  they  go — 

Shall  deck  the  graves  of  these  fraternal  dead. 

The  day  of  triumph  comes,  O  blood-stained  Flag ! 

Washed  clean,  and  lustrous  in  the  morning-light 

Of  a  new  era  thou  shalt  float  again 

In  more  than  pristine  glory  o'er  the  land 

Peace-blest  and  re-united.     On  the  seas 

Thou  shalt  be  honored  to  the  farthest  Ind. 

The  oppressed  of  foreign  lands  shall  flock  the  shores 

To  look  upon  and  bless  thee.     Mothers  shall  lift 

Their  infants  to  behold  thee  as  a  star 

New-born  in  heaven  to  light  the  darkling  world. 


120  PAULINE. 

The  children  weeping  round  the  desolate 

Sore-stricken  mother  in  the  saddened  home 

Whereto  the  father  shall  no  more  return, 

In  future  years  will  proudly  boast  the  blood 

Of  him  who  bravely  fell  defending  thee. 

And  these  misguided  brothers  who  would  tear 

Thy  starry  field  asunder  and  would  trail 

Their  own  proud  flag  and  history  in  the  dust, 

Ere  many  years  will  bless  thee,  dear  old  Flag, 

That  thou  didst  triumph  even  over  them. 

My  part  is  done.     'Twas  humble,  but  I  feel 

It  was  not  all  in  vain.     I  go  to  rest. 

These  eyes  are  dim  with  death,  but  other  eyes 

Will  see  the  glory  thou  shalt  shortly  wear, 

And  new-born  stars  float  in  upon  thy  field 

In  lustrous  clusters,  circling  round  the  sun 

Of  universal  Peace.     God's  will  be  done  ! 

God's  will  is  peace  on  earth, — good-will  to  men. 

The  chains  all  broken  and  the  bond  all  free, 

O  may  this  nation  learn  to  war  no  more  ; 

Yea,  into  plow-shares  may  these  brothers  beat 

Their  swords  and  into  pruning-hooks  their  spears,- 

Clasp  hands  again,  and  plant  these  battle-fields 


PAULINE.  121 

With  golden  corn  and  purple-clustered  vines, 
And  side  by  side  re-build  the  broken  walls — 
Joined  and  cemented  as  one  solid  stone 
With  patriot  love  and  Christ's  sweet  charity."— 

And  here  his  words  became  inaudible, 

As  in  the  'mazes  of  the  Mammoth  Cave 

Fainter  and  fainter  on  the  listening  ear 

The  low,  retreating  voices  die  away. 

His  eyes  were  closed  ; — a  placid  smile  of  peace 

Sat  on  his  lips.      I  held  his  nerveless  hand, 

And  bent  my  ear  to  catch  his  latest  breath  ; 

And,  as  the  spirit  fled  the  pulseless  clay, 

I  heard — or  thought  I  heared — his  wondrous  words— 

"  Pauline — /tow  beautiful !  " 

As  I  arose 
The  gray  dawn  paled  the  shadows  in  the  east. 


122  THE  PIONEER. 

THE  PIONEER. 

(MINNESOTA.) 


When  Mollie  and  I  were  married  from  the  dear  old 

cottage-home, 

In  the  vale  between  the  hills  of  fir  and  pine, 
I  parted  with  a  sigh  in  a  stranger-land  to  roam, 
And  to  seek  a  western  home  for  me  and  mine. 

By  a  grove-encircled  lake  in  the  wild  and  prairied 

West, 

As  the  sun  was  sinking  down  one  summer  day, 
I  laid  my  knapsack  down   and  my  weary  limbs  to 

rest, 
And  resolved  to  build  a  cottage-home  and  stay. 

I   staked  and  marked  my  "corners,"  and  I  "filed" 

upon  my  claim, 

And  I  built  a  cottage-home  of  "  logs  and  shakes  ;  " 
And  then  I   wrote  a  letter,  and   Mollie  and  baby 

came 
Out  to  bless  me  and  to  bake  my  johnny-cakes. 


THE  PIONEER.  123 

When  Mollie  saw  my  "  cottage  "  and  the  way  that  \ 

had  "  bached," 

She  smiled,  but  I  could  see  that  she  was  "  blue  ; " 
Then  she  found  my  "  Sunday-clothes  "  all  soiled  and 

torn  and  patched, 
And  she  hid  her  face  and  shed  a  tear  or  two. 

But  she  went  to  work   in    earnest   and  the   cabin 

fairly  shone, 

And  her  victuals  were  so  savory  and  so  nice 
That  I  felt  it  was  "  not  good  that  the  man  should 

be  alone  "- 
Even  in  this  lovely  land  of  Paradise. 

Well,  the  neighbors  they  were  few  and  were  many 

miles  apart, 

And  you  couldn't  hear  the  locomotive  scream  ; 
But  I  was  young  and  hardy,  and  my  Mollie  gave 

me  heart, 
And  my  "  steers  "  they  made  a  fast  and  fancy  team. 

Arid  the  way  I  broke  the  sod  was  a  marvel,  you  can 
bet, 


124  THE  PIONEER. 

For  I  fed  my  "  steers  "  before  the  dawn  of  day  ; 
And   when    the   sun   went    under   I    was    plowing 

prairie  yet, 
Till  my  Mollie  blew  the  old  tin  horri  for  tea. 

And  the  lazy,  lousy  "  Injuns  "  came  a-loafing  round 

the  lake, 

And  a-begging  for  a  bone  or  bit  of  bread  ; 
And    the   sneaking   thieves   would    steal   whatever 

they  could  take — 
From  the  very  house  where  they  were  kindly  fed. 

O  the  eastern  preachers  preach,  and  the  long-haired 
poets  sing 

Of  the  "  noble  braves  "  and  "  dusky  maidens  fair;  " 

But  if  they  had  pioneered  'twould  have  been  an 
other  thing 

When  the  "  Injuns "  got  a  hankering  for  their 
"  hair." 

Often  when  we  lay  in  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
How  the  prairie-wolves  would  howl  their  jubilee  ! 


THE  PIONEER.  125 

Then  Mollie  she  would  waken  in  a  shiver  and  a  fright, 
Clasp  our  baby-pet  and  snuggle  up  to  me. 

There  were  hardships  you  may  guess,  and  enough 

of  weary  toil 

For  the  first  few  years,  but  then  it  was  so  grand 
To  see  the  corn  and  wheat  waving  o'er  the  virgin 

soil, 
And  two  stout  and  loving  hearts  went  hand  in  hand. 

But  Mollie  took  the  fever  when  our  second  babe 

was  born, 

And  she  lay  upon  the  bed  as  white  as  snow ; 
And  my  idle  cultivator  lay  a  rusting  in  the  corn  ; 
And  the  doctor  said  poor  Mollie  she  must  go. 

Now  I   never  prayed  before,  but  I   fell  upon  my 

knees, 

And  I  prayed  as  never  any  preacher  prayed  ; 
And  Mollie  always  said  that  it  broke  the  fell  disease  ; 
And  I  truly  think  the  Lord  He  sent  us  aid  : 


126  THE  PIONEER. 

For  the  fever  it  was  broken,  and  she  took  a  bit  of 

food, 

And  O  then  I  went  upon  my  knees  again  ; 
And  I  never  cried  before, — and   I   never  thought  I 

could, — 
But  my  tears  they  fell  upon  her  hand  like  rain. 

And  I  think  the  Lord  has  blessed   us  ever  since  I 

prayed  the  prayer, 

For  my  crops  have  never  wanted  rain  or  dew : 
And  Mollie  often  said  in  the  days  of  debt  and  care, 
"  Don't   you  worry,  John,  the   Lord  will  help   us 

through." 

For  the  "pesky,"  painted  Sioux,  in  the  fall  of  'sixty- 
two, 

Came  a-whooping  on  their  ponies  o'er  the  plain, 

And  they  killed  my  pigs  and  cattle,  and  I  tell  you  it 
looked  "  blue," 

When  they  danced  around  my  blazing  stacks  of  grain. 

And  the  settlers  mostly  fled,  but   I  didn't  have  a 

chance, 
So  I  caught  my  hunting-rifle  long  and  true, 


THE  PIONEER.  127 

And  Mollie  poured  the  powder  while  I   made  the 

devils  dance 
To  a  tune  that  made  'em  jump  and  tumble,  too. 

And  they  fired   upon  the    cabin,  'twas  as  good  as 

any  fort, 

But  the  "  beauties"  wouldn't  give  us  any  rest ; 
For  they  skulked    and  blazed  away,  and   I  didn't 

call  it  sport,  , 

For  I  had  to  do  my  very  "  level  best. 


Now  they  don't  call  me  a  coward,  <but  my  Mollie 
she's  a  "  brick ;  " 

For  she  chucked  the  children  down  the  cellar-way, 

And  she  never  flinched  a  hair  tho'  the  bullets  pat 
tered  thick, 

And  we  held  the  "  painted  beauties  "  well  at  bay. 

• 

But,  once  when  I  was  aiming,  a  bullet  grazed  my 

head, 
And  it  cut  the  scalp  and  made  the  air  look  blue  ; 


128  THE  PIONEER. 

Then  Mollie  straightened  up  like  a  soldier  and  she 

said  : 
"  Never    mind    it,    John,    the    Lord    will    help    us 

through." 

And   you    bet   it   raised    my  "  grit,"  and    I    never 

flinched  a  bit, 

And  my  nerves  they  got  as  strong  as  steel  or  brass ; 
And  when  I  fired  again  I  was  sure  that  I  had  hit. 
For  I  saw  the  skulking  devil  "  claw  the  grass." 

Well,  the  fight  was  long  and  hot,  and  I  got  a  charge 

of  shot 

In  the  shoulder,  but  it  never  broke  a  bone ; 
And  I  never  stopped  to  think  whether  I  was  hit  or 

not 

Till  we  found  our  ammunition  almost  gone. 

• 

But  the  "  Rangers"  came  at  last — just  as  we  were 

out  of  lead, — 
And  I  thanked  the  Lord,  and  Mollie  thanked  Him, 

too, 


THE  PIONEER.  129 

For  she  put  her  arms  around  my  neck  and  sobbed 

and  cried  and  said  : 
"  Bless  the  Lord  ! — I  knew  that  He  would  help  us 

through." 

And   yonder   on    the   hooks   hangs   that  same  old 

trusty  gun, 

And  above  it — I  am  sorry  they're  so  few — 
Hang  the  black  and  braided  trophies  yet  that  I  and 

Mollie  won 
In  that  same  old  bloody  battle  with  the  Sioux. 

Fifteen  years   have    rolled   away  since    I    laid    my 

knapsack  down. 

And  my  prairie-claim  is  now  one  field  of  grain  ; 
And  yonder  down  the  lake  loom  the  steeples  of  a 

town, 
And  my  flocks  are  feeding  out  upon  the  plain. 

The  old  log-house  is  standing    filled  with  bins  of 

corn  and  wheat, 
And  the  cars  1;hey  whistle  past  our  cottage-home ; 


13°  THE  PIONEER. 

But  my  span  of    spanking  trotters  they  are  "just 

about"  as  fleet, 
And  I  wouldn't  give  my  farm  to  rule  in  Rome. 

For  Mollie  and  I  are  young  yet,  and  monarchs,  too, 

are  we — 

Of  a  "  section"  just  as  good  as  lies  out-doors ; 
And  the  children  are  so  happy  (and   Mollie  and   I 

have  three) 
And  we  think  that  we  can  "  lie  upon  our  oars." 


So  this  summer  we  went  back  to  the  old  home  by 

the  hill : 

O  the  hills  they  were  so  rugged  and  so  tall ! 
And  the  lofty  pines  were  gone,  but  the  rocks  were 

all  there  still, 
And  the  valleys  looked  so  crowded  and  so  small. 

And  the  dear  familiar  faces  that  I  longed  so  much 

to  see, 
Looked  so  strangely  unfamiliar  and  so  old, 


THE  PIONEER.  131 

That  the  land  of    hills  and  valleys  was  no  more  a 

home  to  me, 
And  the  river  seemed  a  rivulet  as  it  rolled. 

So  I  gladly  hastened  back  to  the  prairies  of  the 
West,— 

To  the  boundless  fields  of  waving  grass  and  corn  ; 

And  I  love  the  lake-gemmed  land  where  the  wild- 
goose  builds  her  nest, 

Far  better  than  the  land  where  I  was  born. 

And  I  mean  to  lay  my  bones  over  yonder  by  the 

lake — 

By  and  by  when  I  have  nothing  else  to  do, — 
And  I'll  give  the  "  chicks"  the  farm,  and  I  know  for 

o 

Mollie's  sake, 

That  the  good  and  gracious  Lord  will  help  'em 
through. 


132  MAULEY. 

MAULEY, 

THE    BRAVE    FERRYMAN, 


[NOTE. — The  great  Sioux  massacre  in  Minnesota  commenced  at 
the  Agency  village,  on  the  Minnesota  River,  early  in  the  morning  of 
the  i8th  day  of  August,  1862,  precipitated,  doubtless,  by  the  murders 
at  Acton  on  the  day  previous.  The  massacre  and  the  Indian  war 
that  followed  developed  many  brave  men  but  no  truer  hero  than 
Mauley,  an  obscure  Frenchman,  the  ferry-man  at  the  Agency.  Con 
tinually  under  fire,  he  resolutely  ran  his  ferry-boat  back  arid  forth 
across  the  river,  affording  the  terror-stricken  people  the  only  chance 
for  escape.  He  was  shot  down  on  his  boat  just  as  he  had  landed 
on  the  opposite  shore  the  last  of  those  who  lied  from  the  burning 
village  to  the  ferry-landing.  The  Indians  disemboweled  his  dead 
body,  cutoff  the  head,  hands  and  feet  and  thrust  them  into  the 
cavity.  See  Heard's  Hist.  Sioux  War,  p.  67.] 

Crouching  in  the  early  morning, 
Came  the  swarth  and  naked  Sioux ; 
On  the  village,  without  warning, 
Fell  the  sudden,  savage  blow. 
Horrid  yell  and  crack  of  rifle 
Mingle  as  the  flames  arise  ; — 
With  the  tomahawk  they  stifle 
Mother's  wails  and  children's  cries. 
Men  and  women  to  the  ferry 
Fly  from  many  a  blazing  cot ; — 
Brave  and  ready — grim  and  steady, 
Mauley  mans  the  ferry-boat. 


MAULEY,  133 

Can  they  cross  the  ambushed  river? 
'Tis  for  life  the  only  chance  ; 
Only  this  may  some  deliver 
From  the  scalping-knife  and  lance. 
Through  the  throng  of  wailing  women 
Frantic  men  in  terror  burst  ;— 
"  Back,  ye  cravens  !  "  thunders  Mauley,— 
I  will  take  the  women  first !  " 
Then  with  brawny  arms  and  lever 
Back  the  craven  men  he  smote. 
Brave  and  ready — grim  and  steady, 
Mauley  mans  the  ferry-boat. 

To  and  fro  across  the  river 

Plies  the  little  mercy-craft, 

While  from  ambushed  gun  and  quiver 

On  it  falls  the  fatal  shaft. 

Trembling  from  the  burning  village, 

Still  the  terror-stricken  fly, 

For  the  Indians'  love  of  pillage 

Stays  the  bloody  tragedy. 

At  the  windlass-bar  bare-headed — 

Bare  his  brawny  arms  and  throat — 


134  MAULEY. 

Brave  and  ready — grim  and  steady, 
Mauley  mans  the  ferry-boat. 

Hark  ! — a  sudden  burst  of  war-hoops  ! 
They  are  bent  on  murder  now  ; 
Down  the  ferry-road  they  rally, 
Led  by  furious  Little  Crow. 
Frantic  mothers  clasp  their  children, 
And  the  help  of  God  implore ; 
Frantic  men  leap  in  the  river 
Ere  the  boat  can  reach  the  shore. 
Mauley  helps  the  weak  and  wounded 
Till  the  last  soul  is  afloat  ; — 
Brave  and  ready — grim  and  steady, 
Mauley  mans  the  ferry-boat. 

Speed  the  craft ! — The  fierce  Dacotas 
Whoop  and  hasten  to  the  shore, 
And  a  shower  of  shot  and  arrows 
On  the  crowded  boat  they  pour. 
Fast  it  floats  across  the  river, 
Managed  by  the  master  hand, 


MY  HEARTS  ON  THE  RHINE.  135 

Laden  with  a  freight  so  precious, — 
God  be  thanked  ! — it  reaches  land. 
Where  is  Mauley — grim  and  steady, 
Shall  his  brave  deed  be  forgot  ? 
Grasping  still  the  windlass-lever, 
Dead  he  lies  upon  the  boat. 


MY  HEART'S  ON  THE  RHINE. 


FROM  THE   GERMAN   OF    WOLFGANG    MULLER. 


My  heart's  on  the  Rhine, — in  the  old  Father-land  ; 
Where  my  cradle  was  rocked  by  a  dear  mother's 

hand, 
My  youth  and  my  friends — they  are  there  yet,  I 

know, 
And  my  love  dreams  of    me  with   her  cheeks  all 

aglow ; 

O  there  where  I  revelled  in  song  and  in  wine! 
Wherever  I  wander  my  heart's  on  the  Rhine. 


136  MY  HEART'S  ON  THE  RHINE. 

I  hail  thee,  thou  broad  and'thou  golden-green  stream  ; 
Ye  cities  and  churches  and  castles  that  gleam  ; 
Ye  grain-fields  of  gold  in  the  valley  so  blue  ; 
Ye  vineyards  that  glow  in  the  sun-shirnmered  dew  ; 
Ye  forests  and  caverns  and  cliffs  that  were  mine  ! 
Wherever  I  wander  my  heart's  on  the  Rhine. 

I  hail  thee,  O  life  of  the  soul-stirring  song, 
Of  waltz  and  of  wine,  with  a  yearning  so  strong  ; 
Hail,  ye  stout  race  of  heroes,  so  brave  and  so  true ; 
Ye  light-hearted  maidens  with  eyes  bonny  blue ; 
Your  life  and  your  aims  and  your  efforts  be  mine ; 
Wherever  I  wander  my  heart's  on  the  Rhine. 

My  heart's  on  the  Rhine, — in  the  old  Father-land, 
Where  my  cradle  was  rocked   by  a  dear  mother's 

hand  ; 
My  youth  and   my  friends — they  are  there  yet,  I 

know, 
And  my  love  dreams   of    me  with  her  cheeks   all 

aglow  ; 

Be  thou  ever  the  same  to  me,  Land  of  the  Vine  ! 
Wherever  I  wander  my  heart's  on  the  Rhine. 


OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS.  137 

OUT   OF  THE  DEPTHS. 
(MARY  OF  MAGDALA.) 


Reach  thy  hand  to  me,  O  Jesus ; 
Reach  thy  loving  hand  to  me, 
Or  I  sink,  alas,  and  perish 
In  my  sin  and  agony. 

From  the  depths  I  cry,  O  Jesus, 
Lifting  up  mine  eyes  to  thee ; 
Save  me  from  my  sin  and  sorrow 
With  thy  loving  charity. 

Pity,  Jesus, — blessed  Saviour  ; 
I  am  weak,  but  thou  art  strong; 
Fill  my  heart  with  prayer  and  praises, 
Fill  my  soul  with  holy  song. 

Lift  me  up,  O  sacred  Jesus, — 
Lift  my  bruised  heart  to  thee ; 
Teach  me  to  be  pure  and  holy 
As  the  holy  angels  be. 


138  OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS. 

Scribes  and  Pharisees  surround  me  ; 
Thou  art  writing  in  the  sand : 
Must  I  perish,  Son  of  Mary? 
Wilt  thou  give  the  stern  command  ? 

Am  I  saved  ? — for  Jesus  sayeth — 
"  Let  the  sinless  cast  a  stone." 
Lo  the  Scribes  have  all  departed, 
And  the  Pharisees  are  gone  ! 

"Woman,  where  are  thine  accusers?" 
"  They  have  vanished  one  by  one." 
"  Hath  no  man  condemned  thee,  woman?" 
And  she  meekly  answered — "  None." 

Then  he  spake  His  blessed  answer — 
Balm  indeed  for  sinners  sore — 
"  Neither  then  will  I  condemn  thee  : 
Go  thy  way  and  sin  no  more." 


ISABEL.  139 

ISABEL. 

Fare-thee-well : 
On  my  soul  the  toll  of  bell 
Trembles.     Thou  art  calmly  sleeping 
While  my  weary  heart  is  weeping  : 
I  cannot  listen  to  thy  knell : 
Fare-thee-well. 

Sleep  and  rest : 

Sorrow  shall  not  pain  thy  breast, 
Pangs  and  pains  that  pierce  the  mortal 
Cannot  enter  at  the  portal 

Of  the  Mansion  of  the  Blest : 
Sleep  and  rest. 

Slumber  sweet, 

Heart  that  nevermore  will  beat 
At  the  foot-steps  of  thy  lover  ; 
All  thy  cares  and  fears  are  over. 
In  thy  silent  winding-sheet 
Slumber  sweet. 


140  ISABEL. 

Fare-thee-well : 
In  the  garden  and  the  dell 
Where  thou  lov'dst  to  stroll  and  meet  me, 
Nevermore  thy  kiss  shall  greet  me, 
Nevermore,  O  Isabel  ! 
Fare-thee-well. 

But  we  shall  meet 
Again,  and  O,  the  thought  is  sweet. 
When  my  toils  and  cares  are  over, 
Thou  shalt  greet  again  thy  lover, — 
Robed  and  crowned  at  Jesus'  feet 
We  shall  meet. 

Watch  and  wait 
At  the  narrow,  golden  gate  ; 
Watch  my  coming, — wait  my  greeting, 
For  my  years  are  few  and  fleetii.g 
And  my  love  shall  not  abate  : 
Watch  and  wait. 

So  farewell, 
O  my  darling  Isabel ; 


ISABEL. 


Till  we  meet  in  the  supernal 
Mansion  and  with  love  eternal 
In  the  golden  city  dwell, 
Fare-thee-well. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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